let me break (the walls that surround me)
by Tarafina
Summary: Life as Malia Tate knows it takes a swan dive when her best friend Scott is bitten by a werewolf. Toss in her growing feelings for him, a lurky Derek Hale, a budding friendship with Allison, and a need to protect everything she cares about, even at the cost of herself, and Malia has a tough road ahead of her. [season one rewrite - Malia was there from the beginning]
1. wolf moon 1

**Ship** : Malia/Scott (eventually); side: Scott/Allison, unrequited Stiles/Lydia  
 **Word Count** : 11,450  
 **Episode** : Pilot – "Wolf Moon"  
 **Summary** : Life as Malia Tate knows it takes a swan dive when her best friend Scott is bitten by a werewolf. Toss in her growing feelings for Scott, a lurky Derek Hale, a budding friendship with Allison, and a need to protect everything she cares about, even at the cost of herself, and Malia has a tough road ahead of her. [season one rewrite - Malia was there from the beginning]

* * *

 _ **let me break (the walls that surround me)**_

* * *

It was eleven o'clock at night when Malia's phone started buzzing repeatedly, enough that it was bouncing against her desk so much it eventually fell over the edge to the floor below. Shiloh, Malia's dog, lifted her curious head up from where she was sleeping in the corner of the room. One of white ears flopped over her pale brown head as she searched. Finding nothing of importance, she rolled onto her back, spotted paws in the air, and went right back to sleep.

Leaned back in her desk chair, Malia threw a foam basketball across her room to land, _swish_ , right through the basket hanging off her wall. She considered ignoring her phone. A text this late meant one of the boys did something stupid. That or they were _about_ to do something stupid and wanted her to tag along. And, while sneaking out of her house wasn't exactly uncommon for her, she'd promised her dad she was really going to buckle down at school, which officially started again tomorrow. Winter break was over and it was time to get back to screechy warning bells, smelly lockers, and, _ugh_ , math.

But, as much as she wanted to pretend her phone wasn't screaming for attention, she couldn't. And, if she really thought about it, school didn't start back until _tomorrow_ , so she wasn't _really_ breaking her promise to her dad…

Rolling her eyes, she turned sideways on her chair and dipped low enough to scoop up her phone. Stiles had sent her seventeen messages, many of which were unintelligible collections of emojis. Brow furrowed, she dialed his number and sat back in her chair with a frown.

He answered on the third ring, strangely out of breath. "Hello?"

"What do you want? Half your texts are gibberish."

"They're not _gibberish_. It was code. It was supposed to be a quicker way to tell you what was happening. And it would've been, if you'd responded to the first few texts. But you didn't, so now you're out."

"Out of what?" She rolled her eyes. "What the hell is going on that you had to text 17 knife and ghost emojis?"

"At _most_ , I sent you eight of those."

"Whatever. You know it's eleven o'clock at night, right? I could be sleeping."

"Highly unlikely." He grunted. "Seeing as you have insomnia."

"I do not have insomnia…" She pursed her lips. "I just get bored."

"Nobody gets bored sleeping… Because you're _sleeping_. There's no way _to_ get bored."

"Well, I do." She shrugged and grabbed a pen off her table to fiddle with it between her fingers. "Anyway, I sleep better after I run. It helps burn off extra energy." Plus, it vetoed out a lot of the junk food she ate. "Track doesn't start until next month though and jogging trails aren't exhausting me enough."

"Yeah, track, cool. Hey, listen, so there's a reason I've been trying to get a hold of you—"

"I caught on to that."

"—they found a body."

Malia went still. "They who? And what body?"

"'They' as in some joggers. Dad's checking it out now. The whole force is basically out in the woods trying to find the other half and—"

" _Half?_ "

"Would you let me tell the story, please? God, you're so impatient…"

"Well, hurry up!" She huffed before pushing off her chair and tossing her pen away haphazardly as she began to pace.

"Just, hold on, I don't want to repeat myself..."

The line went quiet for a moment, distant grunting noises all that could be heard, before suddenly, there was shouting.

"Stiles?" Malia's heart jumped in her chest, panic flooding her system. " _Stiles!?_ "

A familiar voice broke through then, asking, " _Stiles, what the hell are you doing?_ "

Relief flooded her. Scott! That was just Scott.

"You weren't answering your phone," Stiles replied. "Why do you have a bat?"

" _I thought you were a predator._ "

"A pre— I— _What?"_

Impatient, Malia shouted through the phone, " _Stiles!_ "

"What, wait, hold on." There was a scuffling noise for a moment before Stiles said, "Hey, Malia, you're on speaker. Say hi to Scott."

"Can we get back to the part about the body?" she demanded.

"Body? Like, a _dead_ body?" Scott wondered, confused.

"No, a body of water. Yes, dumbass, a dead body," Stiles snarked. "And way to ruin the surprise, Malia. I was gonna work up to it."

She scoffed, loudly. "If you take any longer to tell me what's going on, I'll be grey by the time you're done."

"All right, okay. So, dad took off like twenty minutes ago. They're calling in the whole force _and_ State police because a couple of joggers found a body out in the woods. Half of one anyway. They're looking for the other half now. Looks like a woman, probably in her 20's."

"Okay…" Malia shook her head slowly. "I mean, sucks to be her. Condolences to the family. But, why is this big news? People die all the time. It's kind of what they do."

"Dark, but not untrue," Stiles admitted. "Didn't you hear me, though? They only found _half_. That means there's another half a body just out there in the woods… We have to go find it!"

"Isn't that what the police are already doing?" Scott pointed out. "We probably shouldn't get in their way."

"Okay, what is with the negativity?" Stiles groaned. "Aren't you the one who's always complaining that nothing ever happens around here? This is our chance to find a little excitement!"

"No, this is our chance to blow any chance of getting a good night's sleep…" Scott sighed. "Which I was trying to do so I'll be ready for tryouts tomorrow."

"Right." Stiles snorted. "'Cause sitting on the bench is such a gruelling effort."

Malia pursed her lips. "Don't point fingers when you have as much bench time saved up on your roster, Stilinski."

"Hey, we are _brothers_ in the bench game. I'm _just_ saying that this is one of the rare moments we have anything cool happen around here and I think we should embrace it."

"By cool you mean a girl was viciously murdered and you want to go find her decomposing corpse?"

Stiles paused before saying, " _Half_. Half of her decomposing corpse!"

With a wrinkled nose, Malia shook her head. "A) Gross. And b) do you have any idea how big the preserve is?"

"Huge," he admitted.

"Do you even know what half of the body we're looking for?" Scott wondered.

"Huh… You know, I didn't even think of that…"

"And, uh, what if whoever killed them is still out there?"

"Also something I didn't think about."

Malia snorted. "What _did_ you think about?"

"That there is a body in the freaking woods _right now_ and we could be the ones to find it!"

"Right, because glory and riches follow dead people everywhere…" Malia kicked at the foam basketball, sending it bouncing off her wall. "You guys aren't seriously thinking about going into the woods, are you?"

There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

Malia groaned. "How did I end up friends with you dorks?"

"Perfect timing and my charming ability to make even a cemetery less depressing?" Stiles offered.

Despite herself, Malia felt the faint tug of a smile at the corner of her lips. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely wrong. When Malia was ten years old, she spent a lot of her time at the cemetery, pacing circles around her mother and Kylie's graves, gathering up the courage to tell them how sorry she was for all the cruel things she'd said before they left the house. Six years had passed since then and she still hadn't forgiven herself. But, in true Stiles fashion, he'd wandered over to interrupt her pity party and quickly ingratiated himself to her. It seemed he also liked to visit the cemetery to tell his mom what was going on in his life. Sitting on someone's grave stone in a suit that was two sizes too large for him, wearing a loose tie that was probably his dad's, he'd smiled at her, all teeth, his ears too big for his head. Malia had been hell bent on ignoring him, but when Stiles wanted someone to notice him, he pulled out all the stops.

She wouldn't call it a great beginning. She might've thrown the dead weeds from her sister's grave at his face— she was a pretty angry kid at the time— but Stiles took it in stride. After a few more run-ins at the cemetery, she eventually thawed a little. Which somehow led to her kind of liking the strange boy with the mismatched suit and too-big tie. Once school started, she found out who he was, and soon after, met his best friend, Scott McCall. All in all, a pretty beneficial part of her life since they were now her two closest— and clearly dumbest— friends.

"Fine. I'll meet you by the west entrance to the preserve. You know, the one that says not to go anywhere that isn't a marked trail."

"Wait, should you be out there alone?" Scott worried. "Maybe we should come pick you up?"

Malia chewed her lip; she'd be lying if she said his concern didn't warm her rocky little heart. That didn't stop her from saying, "I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, I know these woods better than both of you combined."

"She's not wrong," Stiles admitted.

"There's a difference between knowing the woods and fighting off a possible murderer…" Scott sighed. "Just text us, let us know you're okay."

"Yeah, yeah." Malia moved to her closet to dig around for some warmer clothes. "I jog these trails all the time. I'll be fine. It's you two who should be really worried. One of you has asthma and the other has literally no reflexes."

Stiles scoffed, offended. "What!? I have _reflexes_!"

"Slow ones." Malia pulled a sweater off the hanger quick enough that it sent it swaying back and forth. "I'll see you soon. Don't do anything stupid." With that, she hung up, and shoved her phone into the front pocket of her sweater. Trading in her pajama shorts for a pair of jeans, she slipped her feet into a pair of runners and tied the laces.

Excited now, Shiloh left her place on the floor and made her way over, tail wagging hopefully.

"Hey, buddy." Malia rubbed her ears affectionately. "Usually, I'd take you with me. But you always bark when I get the leash out and I can't exactly sneak you through my window, so you're going to have to stay here and keep the house safe, all right? I promise you, I'll take you out for an extra long walk tomorrow." Bending, she pressed a kiss to Shiloh's nose and then made her way to her bedroom window.

Tying her hair up in a messy pony tail, Malia then carefully inched her window up enough that she could climb through to the porch outside. Slowly lowering it back down, she made a 'shh' motion to Shiloh, sitting pretty on the floor, watching her leave. She purposely left a couple inches of space at the bottom of the window so it'd be easier to lift when she got back and then turned on her heel to quietly make her way to the yard ahead.

The lawn needed some serious care, but it wasn't getting much from her dad. As much as she loved him, he'd never quite healed from the loss of his wife and daughter. Malia knew that he cared about her, but she couldn't help but feel like the ghosts of their family lingered between them, a tether that never quite let them grow, heal, or move on. Their house was just one sign of that; overgrowth of grass in every direction, peeling paint on the exterior, and the unstable nature of the stairs leading to the porch spoke of a house that wasn't as tended to as it had once been. When her mom was alive, home was warm. It was bright and organized and full of love. In the aftermath, her father was left stumbling, not sure how to adapt and maybe not even willing to.

Hurrying out of the yard, she made her way to the treeline. Malia had long ago memorized every pathway through the woods. When she was a little girl, she and Kylie used to climb the trees every chance they got. They'd jump and tumble through the grass, make forts out of twigs and curtains they stole from the linen closet, and make up elaborate stories about being princesses and fairies that lived in the magical woods. Malia always wanted to be a knight. Not one that slayed dragons though. Instead, she wanted to befriend dragons and have them fight alongside her in raging battles. Kylie was always the princess; pretty and smart and looking for a prince in a wild rabbit or curious fox.

Sometimes, just running through the woods brought Malia back to that age of innocence. On particularly hard days, she would go there just to think of her mom and Kylie. She'd run as fast as her legs would take her and let the wind dry the tears she wouldn't admit she'd cried. For as long as she could remember, she'd tried to be strong. To toughen herself up against he onslaught of pain that had filled her life and her home since she was ten. The loss of her family had been almost too much to bear. But she had, and she felt like a more resilient person because of it. Still, she knew there were times that she was _too_ aggressive or too cold. She was blunt in a way that wasn't exactly socially acceptable. Malia didn't see the point of sugar-coating things or trying to soften herself up for others. She was who she was. And sure, maybe part of it was some kind of shield against pain and loss. But, so what? Everybody had their coping mechanisms.

Anyway, she was happy with her life. _Mostly_. There were times that she wanted more or felt like she might be missing out on something. But, for the most part, things were good. She had two amazing, slightly idiotic, friends. She had her dad. And she had Ms. McCall and Sheriff Stilinski, both of whom were like second parents to Malia. So, sometimes she wished she knew how to be softer or sweeter or how to flirt, but maybe she'd pick it up later. College wasn't so far away. She was sixteen. She had plenty of time to grow into that. Right? And it wasn't like she needed to know it _now_. It wasn't like there was some big reason that she wanted to be more feminine or whatever it was that attracted someone to someone else. No. No reason at all…

Malia caught up to the boys exactly where she told them to wait for her.

Scott pushed off the front of the jeep with a heavy sigh and crossed the distance between them. "You didn't text," he said, his voice heavy with worry and just a little accusation.

Malia winced, but covered it with a frown. "Sorry. I was stuck in my head."

"So was I. I thought some crazy serial killer caught up to you." He stared at her searchingly from warm brown eyes, a crooked smile pulling at his mouth. "I'm glad they didn't."

"Technically, this could be their first kill. So, we don't actually know if they're a serial killer," Stiles piped up, appearing next to them.

Malia glanced at him. "Thanks for that. I'll be sure to ask them about their serial killer status if I run into them." Glancing back at Scott, she shifted her feet awkwardly. "So? Dead body's waiting, right?"

"Just half of one." Scott shook his head and started toward the woods.

Malia fell into step with him. "What happened to you going to sleep early so you could make first line tomorrow?"

He tucked his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and shrugged. "Curiosity, I guess… I can still do it, though. I practiced all of winter break. _And_ the summer."

"You're getting pretty good, too." Malia nodded. "As far as distractions go, I guess murder isn't the worst one."

Scott grimaced. "Unless you're the victim."

Stiles motioned the flashlight across Malia and Scott's faces, blinding them for a moment, and then chuckled. "Hey, Debbie and Donnie Downer, can you lighten up? This is cool! We're gonna find a real body!"

"As opposed to all those fake ones we usually find…" Scott half-grinned. "Anyway, how do you know they haven't found it already?" He hopped over a log and reached back to help Malia over it.

It was small and definitely not something she really needed help for, but she took his hand anyway. Not for any particular reason. Definitely not because she liked how he always did that. Treating her like she was delicate and soft, which was clearly not at all what Malia saw herself as. But that was Scott. He'd probably reach back and help Stiles if he thought he might need it. It wasn't anything to read into. She knew this. A little part of her still took pleasure in the little things, though.

"That fast? No way! It's like you said, the woods are huge…" Stiles trudged on ahead, walking deeper into the dense woods, which only seemed to grow darker and creepier the more they walked. They'd long lost any direction and had wandered far away from the trails.

"If you were a killer, where would you leave a body?" Malia wondered, glancing at Scott.

His brow puckered. "I don't really see myself as the murdering type."

"Sure, but if you _had_ to…"

He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip. "I'd hope I'd turn myself in."

Malia rolled her eyes. "You'd make a terrible killer."

He grinned at her. "Thanks."

"I'd leave it near a coyote den."

His brows hiked. "Malia!"

"What!? I'm just saying…" She shrugged. "Coyote's freak out when they smell blood. They literally can't handle it. They just go berserk and attack whatever's bleeding. That way, if the body's ever found, they'd just think it was like, an animal attack or something."

He stared up at her, a little wide-eyed. "You're kind of scary."

"I prefer 'criminally intelligent.'"

He snorted a laugh. "What is it with you and coyotes anyway?"

"I don't know. I just think they're cool. Shouldn't you? You're the one that wants to be a vet."

"Yeah, but I'll probably be looking after dogs and guinea pigs. Not wild coyotes."

"Don't they have some kind of Hippocratic oath for vets, too? Like, don't discriminate against coyotes?"

"I'm not sure it's worded exactly like that, but if we do, it'll definitely have something about trying our best for any animal that needs our help."

"See!" She stared at him smugly. "So, if you ever cross paths with an injured coyote…"

"I'll nurse it back to health to the full extent of my abilities." He grinned up at her. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic."

" _Hey_ …" Stiles called to them. "You wanna help me look for this body or what?"

With a sigh, Malia returned her attention to the woods and not the handsome— er, totally average boy next to her. "What exactly should we be looking for?"

"Disturbed ground, blood, body parts…" Stiles shrugged and then paused at the base of hill with a steep incline. "Pretty much anything suspicious." He started climbing with Malia just behind him and Scott trailing behind her.

About half way up, Malia slowed down when she could hear Scott's breathing start to give out. She looked back to see him leaning against a tree and shaking his inhaler.

"Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?" Gasping for air, he took two puffs from his inhaler, swallowed, and then nodded up at her. "I'm good."

Still, Malia hesitated. She reached back for him and towed him up so he was with her as they climbed the last few feet. Just as they crested the hill, they saw Stiles hit the ground on his belly. Scott and Malia followed suit, landing on either side of him. Above, a rain began, sprinkling down on them just to make things that much more inconvenient. Ahead, they could see flashlights and hear the distant bark of dogs scattered through the trees.

Suddenly excited, Stiles jumped up and started running forward. "Come on!"

"Stiles!" Scott took another drag off his inhaler before he hurried to chase after him. "Wait up! Stiles!"

Rolling her eyes, Malia got up a little slower, dusting off her knees and the front of her clothes. Stupid boys. Why couldn't she have female friends that just wanted to paint her nails and eat ice cream and complain about how annoying boys were? With a sigh, she glanced at where the flashlights were coming from and then took off after them at a quick run. She expected to at least catch up to Scott, whose breathing would hinder him from getting too far ahead.

"Stiles!" Scott shouted again.

In the distance, she could see their dark figures, maneuvering through thick groupings of tree trunks. Stiles had finally slowed down and turned back, but before either she or Scott could catch up to him, he turned, and was abruptly confronted by a snapping, barking dog.

Throwing his arm up in defense, he toppled backwards and landed on his ass in the dirt.

"Hold it right there!" a voice demanded.

Catching up to Scott, Malia grabbed the back of his sweater and yanked him back out of view. They huddled behind a tree to watch as a police officer held the dog back from completely pouncing on Stiles.

"Hang on, hang on. This little delinquent is mine…" a tired and rusty voice called out.

Malia let out a sigh of relief as Sheriff Stilinski intervened.

Standing, no longer in danger, but almost definitely in trouble, Stiles waved at his father. "Dad, how are you doing?"

Ignoring his attempt at a pleasantry, Sheriff Stilinski wondered, "Do you listen in to all of my phone calls?"

"No, heh…" He gave his head a shake to get the rain off his face. "Not the boring ones."

Sheriff Stilinski stared at him a beat, not looking particularly surprised, and then turned his gaze out toward the woods. "Now, where are your usual partners in crime?"

"Who, Scott and Malia? Nah, no. Malia's back home. You think she'd go along with this? And Scott, he's sleeping. He wanted to be rested up for the first day back at school. Lacrosse tryouts are tomorrow… It's just me. In the woods. Alone."

He stared at Stiles blankly, unconvinced. "Scott, you out there…? Malia…?" He waved his flashlight across the trees, searching but not finding.

Scott looked at her and Malia shook her head sharply.

He sighed, but stayed where he was.

The flashlight did another pass but, eventually, the Sheriff returned his attention to Stiles. "Well, young man, I'm gonna walk you back to your car. And you and I are gonna have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy…" He dragged Stiles off by the collar of his jacket, leaving Scott and Malia behind.

Scott knocked his head back against the tree. "Damn it. What do we do now?"

Malia pulled her hood up over her hair even though she could already feel the rain soaking right through. "Start walking."

"Do you even know where we are?"

She took a look around and then nodded. "Yeah, I think I do…"

"You _think_?"

Malia started back the way they came. "Look, you can either trust me and we can find our way to the road or you can go flag down one of the deputies and explain to your mom why you were running around in the woods at midnight."

Scott frowned, glancing back at the darkening woods, flashlights growing dimmer in the distance, and then sighed. "I do trust you…" He turned back to her. "It's just, we don't have a flashlight and if Stiles leaves, we don't really have a ride."

"He'll probably hang around close by. And I have my phone." Malia dug into her pocket and retrieved it, flicking her thumb around until the flashlight app turned on. "See!"

He half-grinned. "Lead the way then."

Malia took a long look around and then pointed. "This way."

The farther they walked, the more noticeable the sounds of the forest became. Wild animals hadn't really freaked Malia out in the past. She lived close enough to the woods that she was pretty used to it. But here, in this atmosphere, there was something a little eerie about it. Scott moved closer, his shoulder brushing against hers as his head swiveled back and forth, eyes darting.

"We'll be fine," she reassured him.

"What? Yeah, no, I know." He nodded quickly. "It's just… Creepier than I expected."

"You do remember we came out here to look for a body, right?" She stared at him searchingly. "I'm pretty sure it was already creepy."

He smiled slowly. "Okay, yeah, but… I don't know. Stiles made it sound kind of cool."

Malia's lips flattened. "Dead is dead."

Scott winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up memories or anything…"

"What's to remember? It's not like I saw the accident."

"No, but…" He gazed at her a moment. "It's gotta be hard, thinking about it."

"It was a long time ago."

"It's family." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter how long it is; they still have an affect on you."

Malia's gaze fell to the ground. Scott wasn't like her and Stiles in that he lost a parent to death, but he'd still lost a parent. Sometimes Malia hated Rafael McCall on principle alone. Other times she hated him because she saw the anger and devastation he'd left in his wake. Malia didn't meet Scott until after his parents had already divorced, but she still saw the lingering after-effects. Like the summers when he was supposed to go visit his dad, or his dad was supposed to visit him, but suddenly he'd be too busy for Scott. Until finally, he stopped calling or making plans at all. Malia sometimes wondered which was worse. To lose a parent that loved you or to have a parent you were sure didn't.

She reached for his hand instinctively and squeezed it tight. "For the record, I only came out here because with your luck, you'd end up some mountain lion's dinner and I'd have to mourn you. Black's not really my color."

His mouth hitched up as he turned to her. "I don't know. I think you pull off that leather jacket pretty well."

"Yeah?" She smirked. "It is my favorite."

"I've noticed."

She looked up at him, her stomach fluttering with the all too annoying presence of butterflies.

Before she could say more, she felt something strange, like the ground was trembling beneath her feet.

"What's wrong?" Scott asked.

She shook her head slowly. "Do you feel that?"

"Feel what?" He looked around them, confused.

They came to a stop in a clearing, fog rolling through the trees ahead. Scott pulled his inhaler out and gave it a shake.

Meanwhile, Malia frowned. Something was off. She could _feel_ it. She just wasn't sure—

Suddenly, deer were darting toward them, leaping through the trees and knocking into each other in their attempt to flee… _something_.

In the chaos, Scott and Malia were separated, sent darting in opposite directions to avoid the stampede. Malia backed herself up against a tree for cover while Scott was knocked to the ground, covering his head for protection.

Malia lurched forward. "Scott!"

"Stay there!" he yelled back.

Conflicted, she pushed away from the tree, but a deer leapt past her, close enough that it clipped her shoulder and knocked her sideways. Hitting the ground, she reached up to rub her shoulder, wincing as she did.

"Malia?"

"I'm here!" She looked back at him. "Keep low."

"I'm trying."

It felt like forever, but was probably only seconds, a minute tops, before the deer had cleared the area, leaving a shocked and confused Scott laying in the dirt.

Malia stood and wobbled over to him. She dropped to her knees next to him and shook her head. "I don't know what the hell that was, but it's nothing good. We need to get out of here." She grabbed onto his hand and pulled him up from the ground.

"What do you think spooked them?"

"Nothing we want to run into." Her brows hiked. "C'mon."

"Wait. My inhaler." He looked around but couldn't immediately see it. "I dropped it somewhere."

Malia chewed her lip before digging her phone out once more. She was lucky it hadn't been trampled too. "I'll look this way, you look that way."

"Fine, but… Don't go too far away."

Malia grinned back at him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to abandon you out here."

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "We still don't know where that body is or who hurt them."

"I know, I know." She backed up before turning on her heel and continuing to search the ground.

Scott dug his own phone out and started doing the same, searching around the wet leaves and debris for any sign of his inhaler. Walking in a crouched circle, he turned over everything in sight, but still couldn't find it. Just as he was about to call out to Malia to see if she found it, his eyes focused in on—a hand. The light from his phone followed it up almost without thinking. A body. A ghoulish, blood drained face, mouth ajar, down a nude body with a grotesquely severed lower half. Startled, he gave a sharp shout and tumbled backwards. Not realizing just how close he was to the edge of the hill, he quickly began rolling down it, backwards. Knocking into trees and shrubs on the way, when he finally hit the bottom, he gave an achy groan.

Still panicked from what he'd seen, he crawled forward in the dirt and leaves and used a fallen log to pull himself upright. His chest was tight, lungs in desperate need of his inhaler, which made it especially impossible for him to call out to Malia above. That didn't stop him from trying, only to find his voice was little more than a wheeze. Struggling to get to his feet, he brushed himself off and eyed the steep hill. Was it smarter to climb it now and get back to her or to hope his lungs opened enough for him to call out?

Before he could reach an answer, he heard it— a low and terrifying growl…

Above, Malia was still looking for Scott's inhaler and having no luck. Realizing that she had in fact wandered pretty far away from him, she turned to walk back. The closer she got however, the more she noticed just how dark it was. She couldn't see the faint light of Scott's phone screen lighting up the ground at all. Moving forward, she called out to him, "Scott…?"

There was no answer.

Frowning, she picked up speed, jogging back to where they came from.

And then she heard a shout. A pained cry that she was all too familiar with. That was the same noise Scott made when he and Stiles were climbing around on the roof of Scott's porch and he slipped. He broke his arm that day and had to wear a neon pink cast for months after. Six truly awful dick drawings from Stiles later, he banned anyone from signing it. The one and only time she'd signed it, she'd left a simple message: _nice balance, dingus – lia_. After Scott had it removed, she'd asked him to save her a chunk so she could add it to her memory box at home. He'd apologized later, saying he'd already tossed it. But Malia still thought about it. She'd accidentally added a little heart just before her name without even thinking. And then added a tail and told anyone who asked that it was a butt-shaped balloon and to let it go already.

Hearing him cry out now, she wasn't laughing. Not about his truly stupid decision to get on the roof and horse around with Stiles or the many, many dick drawings he had to walk around with that whole time, or about how he'd stick a fork up between the cast and his skin because it was so _itchy_. No, now she was afraid.

Abandoning her jog for an outright run, Malia darted toward the top of the hill. Below, she could just make out a large figure on top of a flailing Scott. Panicked, she did the only thing she could think of. She yelled. " _Hey!_ " And when that didn't do anything, she started making more noise and throwing things. "Hey, you furry asshole! Over here!"

Suddenly, Scott was being pitched through the air to roll across the unforgiving ground. And the animal, whatever the hell it was, turned toward her. Malia felt her heart skip a beat.

"Malia, run!" Scott's voice was thick and weak and he was struggling to get his feet under him.

Malia looked from the animal to Scott. He was easy prey. Injured and bleeding. But the animal didn't seem so interested in him now. Instead, he looked really intent on _her_. Malia swallowed tightly and then turned and _ran_. She didn't look back. Even as she heard it growling and grunting, climbing up the hill in pursuit of her. She was scared. Absolutely terrified would be more accurate. But, a very small part of her couldn't help but be grateful that if it was chasing her, it wasn't chasing Scott. Survival instinct told her that being happy one of her best friends wasn't being mauled to death was great, but she definitely needed to make sure she _also_ wasn't killed by whatever dark and fury hellbeast was on her tail.

Malia knew the woods well; however, in the dark things were always a little more difficult to navigate. It was strange then that her vision actually seemed to get better instead of worse. She could see the forest bed as easily as if it were daylight out, hear the animals scurrying around her in fear. The terror of what was happening might make some people trip. Too unfocused to watch where they were going. But Malia felt herself moving faster, speeding through the trees with an agility she'd never known before. Her heart pounded in her chest and sweat beaded on her skin, but she never slowed, never tripped, she just kept running. Jumping over logs and slipping through narrow passageways between leaning trees, she bypassed a familiar tree and made her way right out from the treeline and onto the highway.

Her legs were simultaneously like steel and limp noodles beneath her, stomach churning with adrenaline and fear. She looked behind her, vision darting for some sign of the animal. But there was nothing. No sound, no pounding footsteps, no grizzly teeth bearing down on her. She stood in the middle of the highway, soaking wet, panting, and staring at a seemingly calm forest.

But then, a sound. A howl breaking through the trees and trailing up to the night sky.

Malia shivered.

"Hey!"

Startled, she whipped her head to the right, only to see— " _Scott!_ " She darted toward him and threw her arms around his neck, drawing him into a hug. "Are you okay? I thought… It was right on top of you."

"Yeah." One of his arms banded around her waist. "It got me, too. Took a bite right out of my side."

"What?" She leaned back and looked down. "How bad is it?"

He grimaced. "Bad enough."

Malia looked up at him worriedly. "I lost my phone. I can't even call for help."

"We'll have to walk."

"Scott, you're _injured_!"

"We don't really have a choice. Unless someone happens to drive by this way. The only car I saw nearly ran me over."

She pursed her lips, but he wasn't wrong. Following the trails might lead them somewhere, but going back into the woods wasn't an option. Even if that thing—which she was quickly starting to believe was a wolf— wasn't around, Scott was bleeding, which meant he could attract any number of other animals their way.

"Come on…" She hooked his arm over her shoulder and started walking. "Your place is closer. We can figure it out there."

Scott nodded, his expression twisting with pain as his side pulled. There was no real option but to keep going, so they did.

By the time they finally reached his house, it was well after two in the morning. Melissa was either asleep or still at the hospital. Malia guessed the latter when she didn't come out, demanding to know what all the noise was as Malia helped Scott climb the stairs. They weren't exactly quiet with him complaining and her telling him to suck it up.

"You'd make a terrible doctor," Scott decided, his voice tight. "Shitty bedside manner."

Malia snorted. "Well, gee, another job opportunity lost." She helped him over to his bed, kicking his door closed behind her, and then walked into the en suite bathroom to dig around for the first aid kid his mom kept well stocked. "We need to clean out the bite and bandage it. And a rabies shot wouldn't hurt, but you don't seem to have any of that laying around."

He let out a huffing laugh. "I'll keep it in mind for next time."

"Not a bad idea." Wetting a clot with hot water, Malia brought the kit over to the bed. "Let me see it."

He shook his head, wincing. "It's fine. I can do it."

"Scott, seriously. You're in pain and I want to help. Just lift up your shirt. It's not like I haven't see you without one before. A little skin isn't going to scare me."

"What about a lot of blood?" He dragged the wet fabric up and Malia was greeted with the gruesome site of his torn skin. A perfect bite was formed right along his side, just above his hip.

"Whatever that thing was, it wasn't playing…" Malia dabbed around the bite with the cloth. When he hissed, she winced. "Sorry, but I need to clean it out. There's dirt and junk…"

"The iodine should help with bacteria."

Malia nodded. She finished cleaning up the wound as best she could and then poured the iodine over it.

Scott cried out, squeezing his eyes shut and arching his back as pain ripped through him.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, every muscle in her body tensing up.

"S'okay…" He fell back, sweat dotting his brow. "S'fine, just… wrap it. Please?"

Nodding, she grabbed up the bandage and tore it open. "Stay still."

Scott didn't answer but he did listen to her as she carefully placed the bandage over his wound and smoothed the sticky sides down so it would stay in place. "There. I still think you should see a real doctor and get a rabies shot, but this should hold you over for now."

Scott let out a shaky breath and didn't say anything.

Malia leaned over him and grabbed at the end of his shirt.

His eyes opened slowly, blinked a few times, and then struggled to focus on her. "Wha…?"

"I'm taking this off. The last thing you need is to fall asleep in a gross, bloody shirt. Come on, lift up…"

But Scott was too exhausted from all that happened, leaving Malia to do all the heavy lifting as she shuffled his wet shirt off and threw it in the direction of the garbage. With the blood and holes in it, it was hardly salvageable. "You want me to take your pants off too or do you got that?"

"Hmm?"

Tucking her damp hair behind her ears, she leaned closer to him, searching his face. "You can't sleep in your wet clothes. You'll get pneumonia and die."

He blinked up at her, a faint smile pulling at his lips. "Dramatic."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Just saying. Totally a possibility."

He let out a puff of air before reaching down to unbutton the top of his jeans, but only managed to get the zipper half way down.

Impatient, Malia reached down for him. "Let me…" She yanked down the zipper and then tugged on either side of his jeans to get them to shift down his hips.

If she was honest with herself, this wouldn't be the first time she'd thought of undressing Scott. It was just never under these circumstances. Seeing him hurt and in pain wasn't exactly what she'd call sexy. Instead, it was unnerving. She got his jeans off and tossed them toward the laundry basket before helping him shift higher on the bed and then reaching for the covers to pull them over and tuck them in around him. "There. That should keep you warm. I'm gonna get you some Tylenol and a glass of water, okay?"

Just as she was about to walk away, he reached for her, his fingers coiling around her wrist. "Don't go," he said, his voice quiet, heavy with exhaustion.

She wasn't even sure he was aware of what he was saying. There was a good chance he'd wake up tomorrow and not remember anything past the animal attack, or even before it since trauma had a funny affect on some people.

"I'll be right back."

He hummed, his eyes already half closed.

Malia left his room to make her way downstairs. She filled a glass with water and then rummaged around for some Tylenol in the main bathroom. Malia knew it well since Melissa kept it stocked with Midol and she occasionally had to borrow some off her for whenever that time of the month sprung on her, bringing with it massive cramps and bloating. For that and a thousand other reasons, Melissa McCall was a godsend. Which was why Malia felt a little bad about not immediately calling her to tell her that Scott had been hurt. But, on the walk back to his place, Scott had been adamant that he not go to the hospital or worry his mom. Malia didn't agree, but she also didn't want to completely disregard Scott's feelings on the matter.

Taking the water and Tylenol back upstairs, she put it on his bedside table along with the phone from downstairs. At least that way if something did go wrong, he had it nearby so he could call for help. It was that thought, that something could go wrong and nobody would be there, that kept Malia rooted in place. After a few minutes of indecision, she dragged his desk chair over and took a seat. She'd just stay a little while, make sure he was okay. Maybe Melissa would come home soon and Malia could walk back to her place. Crossing her arms over herself, she grimaced at how damp and uncomfortable her clothes were.

Eventually, she couldn't stand it and walked over to Scott's dresser to dig around for something to wear. Stealing a pair of shorts and a loose muscle-tee, she walked into the bathroom to change. When she came out, she was surprised to see his eyes were open and watching her.

"How do you feel?"

"Like a giant wolf bit me."

She searched his face. "Hospital?"

He shook his head.

"Stubborn," she muttered.

"You're one to talk." He smiled faintly. "C'mere."

She walked toward him, arms crossed loose over her front.

Carefully, Scott shuffled back in his bed, his face taut with pain. He shifted the blanket up and nodded at her. "If you're staying, you might as well be comfortable."

Malia hesitated. She and Scott had shared the same bed before. He, Stiles, and her had all stayed over at each other's places a thousand times in the past. Usually, she took the floor or the couch or a separate air mattress. The one time she shared the same bed with Stiles, they slept with their heads on opposite ends of the mattress. Not a pleasant experience being that close to his feet. So, this was different. Very different. And given her recent realization that she maybe, kind of had a crush on Scott, she wasn't sure how smart it was to climb into bed with him.

"Lia…" He stared up at her, looking oh so tired. "It's late, come on. You can't walk home now and I know you're worried. So just…" He ruffled the blanket in a 'get in here' motion.

If there was ever a more glaring reminder that Scott didn't see her in a romantic light whatsoever, this was it. Here he was, inviting her to hop into bed with him like it was nothing. Like there was no chance of it being awkward because she was just, well, _her_. His best friend and nothing more. A tiny fracture zinged across her heart, but with a deep breath, she slapped a Band-Aid on it and told herself to _woman up_. He was right. It was late and she wanted to be sure he lived through the night. What better vantage point than right beside him?

She slid into bed next to him and settled on her side, faced away from him, toward the alarm clock that she could read the blurry red numbers of through the glass of water. Scott settled behind her, shifting to get comfortable before letting out a long sigh. His warm breath skittered across her neck and she bit her lip.

"You remember the last sleepover we had?" he asked, his voice thick with oncoming sleep.

Malia cast her memory back a few months to Halloween. After Stiles argued that they could _definitely_ still get away with trick r' treating, they'd dressed up and hit the town for some free candy. Which was only slightly dampened by Stiles' complaints over them leaving him out of their joint costume of Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction. Meanwhile, Stiles was left wearing a Robin costume he had from a couple Halloweens ago that he actually seemed offended he hadn't outgrown.

Eventually tiring of trick r' treating, they'd headed back to Scott's for a scary movie marathon which bled into a sleepover. Stiles fell asleep on the arm chair, legs and head dangling over either arm, a bowl of half-eaten popcorn still in his lap. Meanwhile, Malia laid on the couch, watching the end of a slasher movie while Scott laid on the floor below, hands stacked on his stomach, eyes at half-mast. Sometimes, she just listened to him breathe. There was some weird fear in the back of her mind that one day, because of his asthma, he'd just stop. At some point, her arm had slipped off the side of the couch and her hand landed over his chest. And she felt it, his heartbeat pumping steadily beneath her fingertips. So, she didn't pull away; she just left it there, drawing comfort from it. And Scott, half asleep, covered her hand with his own, the warmth of his skin sinking into her own.

It wasn't the first time she wondered if she had feelings for him. That was when she was fourteen years old and her period had struck unexpectedly, causing her to bleed through her very white jeans. And a heroic Scott not only gave her his sweater to wrap around her waist so nobody would notice, but later rode his bike all the way out to her house to deliver her chocolate, a heating pad, and one of his mom's favorite romance movies.

But still, that Halloween night, with her hand over his heart and her own pounding unevenly in her chest, she realized that 'like' and 'crush' and 'puppy love' were as inaccurate as a label could get. Because it felt big. It felt monumental. And it somehow comforted and scared her shirtless in equal measure.

Shaking herself out of her memory, she said, "On Halloween?"

"Yeah."

"What about it?"

"Do you still have that wig?"

Malia turned her head over her shoulder. "Do you still have that bolo tie?"

He grinned. "Yeah. I love that thing."

"You should wear it more often." She turned herself over to face him and rested her head in the cradle of her arm. "Do you still have your wig?"

"No." His nose wrinkled. "Too itchy."

Malia looked up at his mop of shaggy hair and smiled. "It's almost long enough to pull in a ponytail now."

"Is not." He reached up self-consciously. "Does it look bad?"

She stared at him a beat. Sometimes, he surprised her. Scott McCall was one of the kindest people she'd ever known. There wasn't a cruel bone in his body. He loved his friends and his family with the kind of tenacity that should be admired. But so few people ever seemed to notice what a good person he was. It was weird to her, to think that he had anything to be self-conscious about. "Your hair is fine."

"You sure? You took a while to answer."

She snorted. "I'm sure." She reached out to press a hand against his chest, giving him a little shove. "Now go to sleep. You have to be up bright and early so you can make first line, remember?"

His grin turned goofy then. "You think I will?"

"Nobody else deserves it more."

"That's just a polite way of saying probably not, but in a supportive way, right?"

Malia bit the inside of her cheek. "Listen, if I'm going to get dragged to every foreseeable lacrosse game, then you better be on the team and in the field." She poked him. "No more bench warming. I want to see goals or nets or whatever they call them."

He rolled his eyes. "You know how lacrosse is played."

"I know a lot of boys run around with sticks and chase balls. I can name at least two other sports that do that."

He reached up and made an 'X' across his heart. "I promise to try my best to get on the team tomorrow so you'll have something entertaining to watch."

She nodded. "That's all I ask."

Taking a deep breath, he let it out on a yawn.

Which made Malia yawn.

Which, in turn, made him yawn a second time.

Which then—

"Ugh…" She reached over and covered his face with her hand. "Go to sleep or we'll be at this all night."

Scott, not uncharacteristically, _licked her palm_ in response.

"Ew!" Malia wiped it on his shoulder and then hugged her arm to her chest. "If I get rabies because your infected saliva touched my hand…"

He snorted a laugh. "I think you're safe."

"If you say so…"

He smiled at her. "I do."

With a hum, Malia moved her arm to settle her head on the pillow. "If you wake up and I'm gone, I've snuck home so my dad doesn't freak," she warned.

Eyes already closed, Scott hummed.

Malia watched him a little longer, his face relaxed and his shaggy hair falling across his forehead. She curled her fingers against her palm to keep from reaching out to touch him. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and willed herself to sleep.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Malia slipped out just after 5 am, before the sun had even risen. Her clothes were still damp from the night before, so she snagged a pair of Scott's sweat pants and one of his sweaters on her way out. To be honest, that was pretty common practice with her. She had plenty of Scott's and Stiles' clothes at her place. Eventually, she'd give them back, when they'd outlived their purpose anyway.

It was quiet that early in the morning, with very few cars on the road and only the sound of crickets interrupting the peace. She wasn't surprised to see her dad hadn't woken up yet. She easily crept back into her room, closing her window and climbing back into bed to find Shiloh curled up on the end. Sleepy and happy, Shiloh climbed up the bed to lay closer to her, rolling herself over to lay against Malia's stomach.

Smiling tiredly, Malia stroked her hand down Shiloh's back as she let her eyes close to get another forty minutes of sleep before she had to get up and ready for the first day back at school. Given just how late it was before they fell asleep, she had a feeling it was going to be a very long day.

Her pre-set alarm was like a jackhammer against her brain, but she slapped a hand down against it and rolled out of bed. Her legs felt sore and overstretched, but there was nothing she could do but take a nice, hot shower. After getting dressed, she made herself some scrambled eggs and toast and waited for the inevitable.

It was just after seven when the familiar honk of Stiles' horn let her know he was there. Grabbing up her bag, she hurried outside and crossed the overgrown lawn in long, quick strides. Hopping into the familiar blue Jeep that was held together with more duct tape than was probably safe, she was surprised to see him giving her a look, his brows raised high on his forehead.

Feeling defensive, she asked, " _What?_ "

"What you mean 'what?' You wanna tell me what happened last night after my dad ran me off?"

She sighed. "Long story."

"Well, clearly you survived it." He put the Jeep into gear and pulled away, headed back toward the main road. "How's Scott? When'd you guys get home?"

"Honestly, it took a while."

"I tried to come back but dad had one of his deputies tail my ass all the way back to the house."

"It's fine. We're both fine. At least, I think we are. Scott was actually bitten by something last night…"

"No way!"

"Yes way and don't look so excited." She socked his shoulder.

"I'm not excited." He said that, but he was definitely bouncing in his seat. "I'm curious!"

"With you those are basically the same thing."

He shrugged. "Touché."

"We were headed to the road to see if we could catch a ride back with you, but the weirdest thing happened."

"Strong words, but I'm listening…"

"These deer just came running through the trees. They nearly trampled us. Scott lost his inhaler in the scuffle so we started looking for it. We split up to make it easier—"

"What? No, no, no. First rule of any horror movie. You never split up."

"Okay, but this was real life. And also, _you_ were the one that dragged us out into the creepy, dark words looking for a severed body."

"I did not _drag_ you there… I carefully convinced and slightly manipulated you into going. There's a difference."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Anyway… The next thing I know, Scott is being attacked by this giant, furry… _thing_. I made noise to try and get its attention, but it still managed to bite him before it took off after me."

"Wait, it _chased_ you. Are you hurt?"

"No, it never caught up." She shook her head. "I made it out to the road and found Scott. We walked back to his place to get the wound cleaned out and bandaged, since he wouldn't let me call for help or anything."

"But, he's okay?"

"He was last I saw him. Which was like two hours ago, so…"

Stiles paused. "So, you slept over."

"Well, I was kind of freaked out that he might die in his sleep, so yeah."

"Right, sure." He nodded. "Not like there's any other reason you might wanna stay over at Scott's place. Maybe play nurse, cuddle him back to health, wipe his sweaty brow until your eyes meet in the middle and—"

"Should I be reading between the lines here about _your_ secret crush on Scott?"

"What? No. I've never made a secret of that." He grinned at her lightly. "Look, all I'm saying is that I'm not blind. I know how you feel about him and it's okay."

Malia frowned and dug around in her bag as a distraction. "No idea what you're talking about." She found the unopened bag of licorice she'd put in there the night before and tore open the top to pull out a strip.

"Malia, seriously. I've known you since you were like, _ten_. I know what you look like when you've got a crush and—" He reached over to snag the licorice out of her hand. "C'mon, it's not even 8 in the morning. Have a little restraint."

"Hey!" She reached over and flicked his cheek irritably. "I paid money for that."

"No, you _wasted_ money on that. What happened to eating healthier, huh? You don't have yogurt in there or something?"

"No. _Ew_. And stop policing my eating habits, _dad_."

He stared at her a beat. "You know, I don't hate you calling me that…"

Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest and turned her attention out the window. "You suck."

"Actually, I'm the opposite of that, because I'm an amazing friend who is just trying to tell you that I fully support this whole Scott/Malia mash-up."

"There is no mash-up. We're friends! Like you and me."

"Eh. Not really." He shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, you guys have been friends for years. But at some point, natural human hormones snuck in and started pulling strings. It's fine. You actually kind of balance each other out. He's all nice and kind and a little dopey. You're all blunt and grumpy and irritable."

"Wow, thank you for that flattering description of my personality…"

"Hey, I like that about you. You're unapologetically yourself. And you're not _always_ irritable. You just don't make it a habit to pretend you're in a good mood when you aren't." He paused. "You know what, I could've phrased that better. I'm just saying, you guys work with each other."

"Oh my God, Stiles, _stop_. Scott and I aren't anything." She leaned deep against her seat, her shoulders hunched. "He doesn't see me that way, okay?"

"He doesn't see _you_ that way… Meaning you see him…" His gaze darted from the road to her, back and forth repeatedly. "So, you're admitting it, right?"

"Are you driving slower than usual? How are we not at school yet?"

"C'mon, just answer the question." He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "I promise I won't make fun of you."

"Bullshit," she muttered.

"All right, I'll make fun of you a little, but just a _tiny_ bit. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?"

Malia sighed, long and loud. "I need more girlfriends."

"For sleepovers and pillow fights?"

"For _everything_." She glared up at him, her chin resting on her chest. "Boys suck. And they smell."

"What? I put extra deodorant on today…" He ducked his head to check his armpits and frowned. "I smell good. What's wrong with your nose?"

She perked up when she saw the school ahead. "Don't say a word of this conversation to Scott. I'm serious. I don't want him acting weird around me."

"You mean because you're in love with him."

Malia stared at him a beat and then reached over and gave his face a shove.

"Malia!" he cried. "You wanna cause an accident? Geez. I could've crashed!"

"Put us both out of our misery then."

Stiles had barely put the Jeep in park before she was climbing out. Slamming the door behind her, harder than really necessary, she ignored Stiles' cry of 'be _gentle_ ' and instead made her way down the sidewalk toward the school, pulling out another piece of licorice to stick between her teeth before she hitched her bag over her shoulder.

Up ahead, Malia watched as Scott locked his bike up at the ramp, exchanging words with Jackson Whittemore in the process. She frowned to herself, only dragging her eyes away when Stiles came to a stumbling stop next to her.

"You couldn't wait for me?"

She shrugged.

"Scotty!" Stiles called out, waving excitedly toward their best friend, as if he hadn't just seen him last night.

Scott walked toward them, lopsided smile in place. "Hey."

"Hey," Stiles nodded back. "So, let's see this thing."

Scott laid his bag down on the ground and dragged his shirt up, revealing the bandaging underneath, spotted with blood in places.

"Ooh!" Stiles reached out, measuring his hand against the size of the bandage.

Worried he was about to touch it, Scott jumped back an inch. "Whoa!"

Stiles held his hands up in apology, but continued to grimace down at the covered wound.

"It was too dark to see much…" Scott dropped his shirt in place and picked his bag up. "But I'm pretty sure it was a wolf."

Together, the three of them started toward the school.

"A wolf bit you?" Stiles repeated, unconvinced.

"Uh- huh."

"No, not a chance."

"I heard a wolf howling." He looked to Malia for confirmation, who nodded.

"So did I."

"No, you didn't," Stiles insisted, looking between them. "I don't know _what_ you heard, but it wasn't a wolf."

Malia frowned. "How do you know?"

"Because." Stiles laughed. "California doesn't have wolves, okay? Not in like 60 years."

"Really?"

They came to a stop just outside of the doors leading inside the school, lingering at the foot of the stairs.

"Yes, _really_. There are no wolves in California."

Scott's brow furrowed before finally, he shrugged. "All right, well, if you don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not gonna believe me about when I tell you I found the body…"

"Wait, _what?_ " Malia turned toward him. "You never mentioned you found the body."

Scott reached over and stole her licorice from between her teeth, taking a bite off the end. "I kind of forgot. Intense pain and all that."

"You—" Stiles whole body vibrated with excitement. "Are you kidding me?"

"No, man, I wish." He grimaced. "I'm gonna have nightmares for a month."

"You should've said something." Malia stared at him, her brow furrowed. "Wait, is that why you were moving around so much? I just thought your side was bugging you…"

Scott stared at her, his brows hiked. "Uh… Yeah, well. I mean, kind of. It was a little… I was just uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable how?" She reached for his side, plucking at his shirt. "Like it's infected?"

"No, no, not that. I mean, yes that, but also… not." He winced. "I just meant… uh…"

Still freaking out a little, Stiles seemed unaware of the conversation happened between them, instead reaching out to grip either of their shoulders and giving them a shake. "This is freakin' awesome! I mean, this is seriously gonna be the best thing that's happened to this town since—" His attention darted past them and his eyes lit up.

Malia didn't have to look back to know exactly who was about to walk past.

"—since the birth of Lydia Martin," Stiles said, a little more loudly than necessary. "Hey, Lydia! You look… like you're gonna ignore me…"

As expected, Lydia marched right on past him without so much as a glance.

Malia rolled her eyes.

Turning back to Scott, Stiles said, "You're the cause of this, you know."

Amused, Scott merely smiled. "Uh-huh."

"Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I'm a nerd by association. I've been scarlet-nerded by you."

"Aren't you the one that talks Star Trek all the time?" Malia reminded him.

"It's Star _Wars_ and I know you know the difference, you just say that to annoy me."

She smirked.

"Evil. You're evil. Both of you are."

"Does that make you evil by association, too?" Scott wondered.

"Oh, hah, he's got jokes. That's funny."

Scott grinned, pleased with himself.

The bell rang shrilly in the background and Malia sighed. She grabbed her licorice out of Scott's hand and started up the stairs.

"Hey!" Scott followed after her, Stiles right behind him.

"Hey, what? It was mine first."

"Yeah, but now it has my cooties on it."

"What is this, third grade?" She bit off the end and then waggled the rest in his face. "After six years, I think I'm immune."

"Never know for sure." He snagged it from her hand and then hurried ahead, making his way to his locker.

Malia bit her lip to hide a grin.

"Not flirting at all, totally platonic," Stiles muttered from beside her.

"Shut up," she said, knocking his shoulder with her own.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're violent?"

"Frequently."

"Never took the hint, huh?"

She snorted and then cut across the hall toward her locker. Digging out what she needed for English, she tossed it in her bag, closed her locker, and then joined Scott and Stiles in the walk to their English class. As everyone filed in, Malia took a seat in front of Stiles and directly across from Scott.

At the front of the classroom, Mr. Edwards was writing on the whiteboard, scrawling 'Kafka's Metamorphosis' in black felt as he told them, "As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night. And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various _macabre_ scenarios as to what happened… But, I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody—"

Scott shifted in his seat to look back at Stiles, who shrugged, surprised by the news.

"—which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester."

Malia had her pencil case on her desk and was already pulling out her highlighters. According to Stiles, she over-highlighted everything. According to Malia, it helped her focus. This way, she could separate everything into individual categories of 'priority,' which could only be helpful when it came time to study for tests.

While Edwards started going over the outline with them, Malia went through her three-pronged system of highlighting things from low to medium to high priority, her legs crossed underneath her and her shoulders hunched as she focused. School wasn't exactly her favorite place to be, but it wasn't her least favorite either. She just didn't have the same drive as Scott or Stiles. They already knew what they wanted to do with their lives while Malia was somewhat floundering on what she wanted to do that _week_. Stiles was going to run off and become a badass FBI agent as soon as he had the chance, while Scott was already looking at what vet schools were both high quality and close to home. Don't get her wrong, she loved her friends, and she was proud of them. She just hated that she couldn't be as sure as them. They were halfway through their sophomore year and she felt like everybody around her already had a ten-year plan.

Malia was startled out of her thoughts by the classroom door swinging open to admit Vice Principal James and what looked like a new, and very nervous, student.

"Class," the Vice Principal said, tucking his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, "this is our new student. Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome."

As he left, Allison started down the aisle toward the only free desk.

She was pretty. Tall and willowy with long dark hair and a nervous but sweet smile. She walked with her head slightly down, her fingers tugging at the cuffs of her jacket. Sliding into the seat just behind Scott, shed hooked her bag around the back of her chair and then turned forward, only to find Scott facing her, a pen held aloft.

Malia watched, a pit forming in her stomach, as Allison smiled, accepting the pen, and Scott took his time turning around.

Malia wasn't jealous. She didn't _get_ jealous. It was a stupid, outdated feeling that she had no right to, because she and Scott were just friends. But, as she dragged her gaze away from them, looking instead to her over-highlighted syllabus, she couldn't help but feel like something had just massively shifted in the dynamics of her life. And she wasn't sure she liked it.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _i've been working on this for a while and i didn't want to post it until i had a good chunk of it ready. as you can see, it fleshes out a lot more of what's happened than what the show does. which means that each episode will take much more than a chapter. this is heavily malia focused and while it sticks with the direction of the show, she will go and do her own thing, meaning that not every scene of the show will be rewritten to add her. for instance, i skip over a lot of lacrosse practices and just have the boys tell malia anything pertinent while she's dealing with things elsewhere._

 _also, malia's werecoyote history will be addressed in the course of the story. it's one of many plots happening._

 _as much as scott/malia is definitely a huge part of this, i also wanted malia to have a strong friendship with stiles and allison and eventually lydia, so there's that to look forward to._

 _i hope, with the show ending, that many of you will still continue to read tw fic and stick with me on this season 1 rewrite! i have plenty to share and am eager to see how you enjoy this remix of sorts._

 _thank you all for reading, please try to leave a review! this story was no small undertaking and i've put a lot of time and effort into it!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	2. wolf moon 2

**Word Count** : 8,590  
 **Polyvore** : look for sarcasticfina - check under collections for one named after this story  
 **Episode** : Pilot – "Wolf Moon" (continued)

* * *

 **ii**

* * *

Malia sat in the grass, her bag beside her and her biology book open in her lap. A half-eaten sandwich lay in a container next to her knee, along with a bag of grapes and her favorite water bottle, littered in faded stickers.

"Are you reading ahead?" Scott's shadow fell across her, blocking out the warmth of the sun.

"Hey." She looked up at him and leaned her back against the trunk of her favorite tree. "I'm hoping if I start now, it'll be over sooner."

Half-smiling, he took a seat next to her, sliding his bag off his shoulders as he went. "It's a theory. Let me know how it pans out."

"Will do." Hooking her finger in the bag of grapes, she pulled it closer and popped a couple into her mouth. "I thought you'd still be inside, trying to not-so-subtly keep an eye on the new girl."

"What?" His face flamed a telling pink. This was far from the first time Scott had had a crush. There'd been other girls before; some fleeting, some not so much. He hadn't dated any of them. Not yet, anyway. Scott was more of the 'longing' type, who fell in love from afar but never acted on his feelings. She never understood the hold up. He was a good guy; anybody would be lucky to date him. "I'm not watching Allison."

"Uh-huh." Malia crossed her legs at the ankle and waited.

A beat passed, and then another, before finally—

"She's pretty though, right? And she seems nice."

"Great hair, awesome fashion sense, super smile. Yeah, she's pretty." Malia flicked open the lid of her water bottle and took a long drag. When she was done, she rubbed her mouth dry against her wrist. "Have you tried talking to her?"

"What would I say?"

"It's always good to start with 'hello.'"

Scott rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. I suck at talking to girls. Every time I try, my palms sweat and my heart starts pounding and, I don't know, it's like I can't make words anymore." He groaned. "I'm gonna be single forever."

"Hardly. So what if you're nervous. Maybe she likes that in a guy."

His brow furrowed. "Nobody likes nervous guys."

"Hey, don't speak for the rest of the world. Cockiness is a mood killer, too. Look at Whittemore."

"Jackson's dating the most popular girl in the school and he's the captain of the lacrosse team… I don't think he's exactly hurting for attention."

"No, but he's a dick."

Scott snorted. "I'm not sure what your point is."

"I forget. Mostly I just wanted to insult him." She shrugged. "Job done."

Shaking his head, Scott sighed. "I just don't want to screw up before I've even started."

"Seriously, all you have to do is say 'hi.' You _just_ said that she looked nice. If she is, she'll say 'hi' back and you can go from there."

He stared at her uncertainly. "Maybe," he eventually said.

Malia held her grapes out to him. "You want one?"

Perking up, he reached for the bag, but she pulled it out of reach before he could touch it. "Sike. That's what you get for stealing my licorice."

"You stole it back!"

"Semantics."

With a slow-building grin, Scott suddenly lunged toward her, tackling her sideways as he tried to wrestle the grapes from her hands.

"Stop!" She laughed. "You're gonna squish them!"

"Grape tease!" He managed to hook his finger in part of the bag and pulled on it. It tore open and the grapes spilled across Malia's face, falling into her hair and rolling across the grass.

Scott laughed and toppled backwards.

"See!" Malia reached up to pick them out of her hair, rubbing one on her shirt before she dropped it in her mouth.

Laying on his side next to her, head propped on his hand, he smiled down at her with soft eyes and a crooked mouth. Reaching over, he picked one up from just beside her ear and ate it.

Malia wrinkled her nose at him before shoving her hand in his face.

He chuckled, shaking his head and rubbing his face against her palm.

Malia let him go and tucked her arms behind her head. "You've got practice after school, right?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Are you coming?"

She shrugged. "Nowhere else to go."

He rolled his eyes. "Also, I want to head back to the woods after. I need to find my inhaler."

"You really think we'll be able to find it out there?"

"They're like eighty bucks. I have to try."

Letting out a dramatic and long-suffering sigh, she nodded. "Fine. Partly because I lost my phone but also because I like your mom and don't want her to have to work overtime just because your lungs are dicks."

"Colorful. But, thank you."

"You're welcome."

They were quiet for a few minutes, just laying in the grass. The sun warm and a cool breeze rustling the tree branches above. Groups of people were scattered around the school grounds, far enough away that Malia could almost pretend it was just her and Scott. Not for long, though. She still had another class after lunch to look forward to. And she really should get back to reading ahead in her biology book, but—

A tiny tickle against her nose made her shake her head.

She looked over to see Scott holding a long piece of grass just an inch away from her face. He smiled innocently, but she knew better.

"Pest." Malia turned over to face him better and grabbed up a handful of grass by its roots, tossing the whole thing at his face.

"I used _one_ piece and you threw like, a bucket!"

"Go hard or go home."

A slow grin pulled his lips up. "If that's how you wanna play it…" Scott started plucking up handfuls of grass.

Malia quickly started doing the same.

What started out small became an all-out grass war, that only ended because Stiles stumbled upon them and shook his head in mock disappointment.

"You're lucky Vice Principal James isn't out here or you'd get slapped with detention and have to plant new grass. Look at all this…"

Admittedly, the ground was a little patchy around them, but Malia couldn't help but be happy. Her heart was beating a little too fast and her stomach was twisted up in the best type of knots. There was a strange kind of high that she got when she spent time with Scott like this. When all her responsibilities and worries just drained away and all that was left was the two of them.

"You gonna turn us in?" Scott joked.

"I should. This is like, school vandalism of the grass variety." Stiles plopped down to sit with them, only to frown at something on the ground. "What's with all the grapes?"

Malia and Scott exchanged a look. In a split second, they were both grabbing up grapes from the ground and pelting Stiles with them.

It was times like these that Malia found herself beyond grateful that she had these two dorks for best friends.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After school, Malia found herself sitting on the benches, a piece of licorice dangling from her mouth and a book in her lap. Much as she wanted to be there to cheer the boys on, she also knew that the chances of Stiles or Scott getting much time to show off their skills was small. Reading was the kind of hobby that she only liked outside of school. If a book wasn't an assigned requirement, she could happily bury her nose in one, but as soon as it was added to the required reading list, she lost all interest. It made for an eclectic variety of books on her shelf back home and a hurdle when it came to English class.

"McCall!" Coach Finstock shouted. "You're on goal."

Scott dropped his other gear to catch the lacrosse stick and goalie's helmet the coach had thrown him. "I- I've never played."

"I know. Scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It's a first day back thing." He clapped Scott's shoulder. "Get 'em energized, fired up!"

"What about me?"

"Try not to take any in the face." He tapped Scott's cheek and then turned to the field, clapping as he yelled, "Let's go! Come on!"

Malia frowned, closing her book as she looked across the field. Scott pulled on the goalie gear and shook his head at a confused and curious Stiles standing nearby.

In front of her, Allison and Lydia Martin took a seat on the benches.

While Malia had been attending school with Lydia for years now, she could only count on one hand how many interactions they'd had. She had nothing against the other girl. Lydia was crazy smart and very determined. Much as she felt bad for Stiles and his doomed crush, Malia held no grudges. She wanted Stiles to be happy, but she also believed women should always be able to say no to any and all affection turned their direction. And as someone who had rejected her fair share of people since puberty hit, Malia didn't see anything wrong with that. That said, however, she and Lydia were far from friends. They simply existed in the same school environment and she was content with it staying that way.

As Scott took up his new and unfamiliar position in the goal, Malia was surprised to hear Allison ask, "Who's that?"

Lydia followed her vision toward Scott and cocked her head. "Him…? I'm not sure who he is. _Why_?"

Allison shook her head. "He's in my English class."

A sharp whistle cut across the field.

Malia watched, confused, as Scott suddenly gripped his helmet, falling to his knees and shaking his head.

She stood from her seat on the bench, discarding her book to the side. Just as she took a step forward, a ball connected with the front of Scott's helmet, knocking him backwards and off his feet to land awkwardly in the net.

Scattered laughter erupted from the team and the coach.

"Hey, way to catch the ball with your face, McCall!" Jackson called out in a smarmy voice.

Stiles dropped his head, groaning.

Malia made her way over to him. "Hey, did you see that?"

"Uh, I think _everyone_ saw that…"

She rolled her eyes. "Not that. _Before_ that."

"No. Why? What happened."

She plopped down onto the bench next to him. "He looked like he was in pain. You didn't notice?"

"I was a little distracted getting ready. What'd you see, exactly?"

She frowned. "I don't know. It was just weird."

Scott stood, rolling his shoulders around and regaining his balance.

As another player took a run forward and threw the ball, Malia was surprised to see Scott catch it rather easily.

Stiles perked up. "Looks like he's doing okay now."

Malia pursed her lips, but sat forward to watch.

Another player stepped up, only to have his ball caught, too.

Stiles let out an excited whoop.

One after another, player after player took their chances and Scott caught every one.

Don't get her wrong, Malia knew he'd practiced. He'd spent all last summer and every day of winter break practicing. Even Christmas saw him geared up and in the backyard. But, much as she rooted for him, she knew that athletics didn't come entirely easy to him. Catching one or two balls was one thing, catching _all_ of them was another.

And then Jackson stepped forward, shoving his teammates back irritably and making his way to the front of the line.

"Ass," Malia muttered. Less due to the frequent reminders that Jackson was exactly that and more to the fact that right now, it was clear that Scott was having a winning streak, which meant Jackson just had to remind everybody that he was the shining star of the lacrosse team. She could've rolled her eyes if she wasn't feeling the hopeful anticipation that a miracle might result in Scott actually putting Whittemore in his place.

She swore she could feel the whole field's worth of people hold their breath as Jackson ran forward, scooped up a ball, and took his best shot.

It was a small victory for the little guy when Scott actually caught the ball.

Stiles leapt off the bench to punch the air with both fists, letting out a cry of shocked elation.

Malia shook her head, grinning as she clapped proudly.

Scott turned toward them, smiling, and spun his lacrosse stick in his hand.

"This is my _friend!_ " Stiles announced.

Behind them, Lydia stood to cheer, too. And Malia wondered if the upper echelon of popular kids wasn't playing a game of chicken. Much as she wanted Scott to get on the team, she wasn't sure how she'd feel about someone like Lydia or Jackson stealing him away. Actually, no, she knew exactly how she'd feel. Pissed and betrayed.

Shaking her head of the thought, she reminded herself that Scott was the most loyal person she'd ever met. She had nothing to worry about. And then he tossed the ball to the assistant coach in a too-suave move over his shoulder. What a dork.

That didn't stop her from cheering him on the rest of practice, though.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After practice, Malia joined the boys in their search of the preserve for Scott's lost inhaler, her phone, and oh right, a severed body.

"How do you know your dad's deputies haven't found the other half yet?"

"Because, I'd know!" Stiles marched ahead, waving a long stick around to smack at stray branches and bushes. "Everything looks different in here during the day. Are you sure we're going in the right direction?"

"No," Scott admitted frankly. "I just remember the hill. The one we climbed last night? It's the same one I fell down."

"I can confirm that." Malia walked along a mossy log like a tightrope. "Not as much the falling down as the being semi-mauled at the bottom."

"Well, that's something." Stiles sighed. "I wonder what it was… I mean, if it's not a wolf—"

"And it _howls_."

"Maybe it was a coyote," Scott suggested.

Malia shook her head and leapt off the end of the log to land in a pile of wet leaves. She kicked them loose from her boots with a frown. "No. It was way too big for a coyote. I mean, it was massive."

"Well, what if you just _heard_ a coyote howl, but you were actually attacked by like, a bear or something." Stiles looked between them. "We have black bears around here. Not a lot of them. They're actually in decline, but it's more plausible than a wolf."

Malia pursed her lips skeptically. "Maybe."

"Anyway, I wanna hear more about _someone's_ amazing goal tending today." Stiles turned to Scott and knocked his hand against his shoulder. "What was that, dude? I didn't know you had it in you."

The three of them made their way across a small creek, mucky water sloshing against their shoes as they went.

Scott grinned. "I don't know what it was. It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball."

Malia hummed. "Maybe all that training's really paying off."

"Maybe. I don't know. It was weird. And that's not the only weird thing. I- I can hear stuff I shouldn't be able to hear. Smell things.

"Smell things?" Stiles snorted a laugh. "Like what?"

Scott lifted his head, took a second to sniff, and then said, "Like the mint-mojito gum in your pocket."

"I don't even have any mint-mojito…" Stiles dug around in his jacket, pulled a face, and then produced a barely-wrapped piece of gum. "Huh."

Scott threw his arms out in a 'see?' motion before he nodded toward Malia. "Or like the cherry Chapstick Malia's got in her bag."

Stiles shook his head. "Now that doesn't prove anything… Malia's always had cherry Chapstick. She's halfway addicted to that junk."

"I am _not_." She shoved his shoulder, sending him stumbling sideways, and then looked to Scott. "But, he's right. I've had that in there for a while."

He sighed. "Okay, well, what about the Skittles then?"

Malia frowned. She had a pack of Sour Skittles tucked away in one of the pockets of her bag. "How'd you know?"

"Skittles, too?" Stiles tossed his hands up. "What is it with you and sugar?"

"Shut up, I just got my period. You know I eat more junk food that time of the month."

Stiles rolled his eyes while Scott nodded knowingly. "That'd explain the chocolate bar, too. Something with… coconut?"

"Oh my God, rat me out why don't you!"

Scott grinned lightly.

But Stiles had his 'detective' face on. "So, all this started after the bite, right?"

Scott's face flat-lined and then his brows hiked with worry. "What if it's like an infection, like, my body's flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?"

"You know what? I actually think I've heard of this…" Stiles nodded. "It's a specific kind of infection."

Scott stopped walking abruptly. "Are you serious?"

Stiles put his hands on his hips, fingers tapping excitedly. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it's called… lycanthropy."

Behind them, Malia rolled her eyes.

"What's that?" Scott worried. "Is that bad?"

"Oh, yeah, it's the worst. But, only once a month."

Scott's head reared back in confusion. "Once a month?"

"Mm- hmm. On the night of the full moon." Stiles howled cheerfully, " _Arooo!_ "

Scott deflated and shoved at him.

With a laugh, Stiles said, "Hey, you're the one who heard a wolf howling."

"Something _definitely_ howled," Malia said. "Wolf, coyote, psycho killer with a set of pipes, I don't know. But, I know I heard a howl."

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "And hey, there could be something seriously wrong with me."

"I know! You're a werewolf!" Stiles raised his hands like they were claws. " _Rrr!_ "

Scott shot him an unamused look.

"Okay, obviously I'm kidding. But if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it's 'cause Friday's a full moon."

Malia crossed her arms. "The fact that you know that off the top of your head is weird."

"What? I like to stay apprised of stuff like this. You never know what could happen. And my dad's even said that people get weird when the moon's full. Brings out the crazies or something."

Malia scoffed. "So, you just memorize every full moon?"

"No, but I noticed it on the calendar. First Friday since school's back. There might be a party soon."

"Right, and you're always invited to those…"

"You know, I'm not sure I like this tone where I'm the only weird one in the group… You're not exactly getting invited out to things either."

"Not true. Danny told me there's a party this weekend."

"Danny?" Stiles pulled a face. "You're friends with Danny Mahealani?"

"He tutors me in math." She shrugged. "And he told me I should come to the party."

Scott's brow furrowed. "He did?"

"Yeah. He said it'd be fun."

"Danny doesn't count," Stiles decided. "We're talking about a _real_ invitation, from someone that'd be into you."

"Of course he _counts_. Not everything has to be about hooking up. And anyway, if I wanted to, I'd have no problem." She poked a finger against his chest. "Got it?"

"Ow!" He rubbed his chest and leaned away from her. "Got it."

"When did Danny ask you to go?" Scott wondered.

Malia glanced at him. "During study period. He said he'd text me the details later."

"Well, are you gonna go?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't decided yet."

"But if you are, we're coming too, right?" Stiles perked up. "You wouldn't just leave us at home, all alone on a Friday night."

Malia raised an eyebrow. "Didn't really think about it. I'm not even sure if I'm going."

"If Danny knows about a party, then Lydia knows about it, which means she'll be there. Which means _I_ have to be there."

"Right…" Malia nodded. "I forgot all of my social decisions are based on your debilitating crush on Lydia Martin."

"It's not _debilitating_ …"

"Uh-huh."

Scott let out a frustrated huff then, drawing their attention as he kicked at piles of wet leaves. "I could've sworn this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler…" He crouched down, digging all around.

"Maybe the killer moved the body," Stiles suggested.

"If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are expensive!"

Malia opened her mouth to say something, but paused as she caught sight of someone standing ahead of them. Stock still and dressed in all black, the word 'menacing' came to mind.

Stiles looked up, startled, and then started nervously swiping at Scott's shoulder, telling him to get up.

Scott abruptly stood and turned to face the guy with them.

The stranger started walking toward them, chin lifted aggressively. "What are you doing here?"

The boys stared at him and Stiles rubbed a hand over his shaved hair.

"Huh?" the man demanded. "This is private property."

"Uh, sorry, man, we didn't know," Stiles said.

"Yeah, we were just looking for something," Scott added. "But, uh, forget it."

Malia pursed her lips. "No."

"Excuse me?" the man asked, his brows hiked.

"Malia…" Stiles said in a semi-pleading tone, his expression begging her to be quiet.

She shot him a brief look and then returned her attention to the man in front of her. He wasn't old by any means; she'd guess early-twenties. But there was something about him, an energy that was aggressive and forceful. "We didn't do anything wrong. People walk these trails all the time."

"You're not on a trail…" the man pointed out. "In fact, you're pretty far off of one."

Her eyes narrowed. "Then maybe you should suggest a way back to it instead of freaking out over a little unintentional trespassing."

He snorted, unconvinced. "Unintentional?"

"Slightly intentional then." She shrugged. "We're just looking for an inhaler… and a phone." She kicked at a pile of mushy foliage pointedly. "We're not here to steal your precious leaves."

The man rolled his eyes. "Either way, you should go."

"That's fine. Really. I need to get to work anyway." Scott's fingers wrapped around Malia's forearm and tugged gently. "Come on. It's getting late."

"You kind of need your inhaler to _breathe_ ," she reminded him. "We're not leaving without it."

"Malia, it's fine. Let's just—"

"Hey!" the man called.

They looked over at him.

He dug something out of either of his jacket pockets and threw them.

Without thinking, Scott caught both, and then looked down, surprised to find his inhaler in one palm and Malia's phone in the other.

Without another word, the man turned on his heel to leave, stomping his way through the woods.

Malia frowned. "You could've just _said_ you had them!"

"Are you trying to get us killed?" Scott mock-whispered, tugging on the sleeve of her sweater. "We don't even know who that guy is. He could be the killer for all we know."

Stiles shook his head. "You don't recognize him?"

"What? No. Who is he?"

"Just _Derek Hale_." Stiles looked between them, sighing at their confused expression. "You remember, right? His family. They all burned to death in a fire like, six years ago…"

Malia felt an aggressive tug at her stomach, like a knife searing through her guts. Regret swamped her in a way that made her knees shake. It'd been like this every since her mom and Kylie died. The very idea of someone losing their family was a stark reminder of what she'd felt like when half of hers died in a car accident. It was a cold and bitter feeling that never failed to make her heart clench and her throat burn.

Scott stared after the retreating Derek, his brow furrowed. "I wonder what he's doing back."

Malia wanted to be snarky. To pull herself out of the gloom spiral that had suddenly consumed her. She wanted to make a joke about how he'd clearly come back to be that old guy yelling 'get off my property' at strange kids, but she just didn't have it in her. Instead, she watched his dark figure disappear deeper into the thickening woods.

"Come on." Stiles tugged at her shoulder.

Malia shook off the strange feeling filling her from the toes up and turned toward them.

"You okay?" Scott's fingers cupped her elbow gently.

"Yeah. Fine. Just…" She glanced back, but Derek Hale was long gone from view. "That was weird, right?"

"Well, we are on his property…"

"Yeah, but, who just wanders around the woods looking for people to accuse of trespassing?"

"At least we're not walking away empty-handed." Scott handed her phone over to her.

Taking it, Malia swiped her thumb over the screen, unsurprised to find it dead. She just hoped it wasn't water-logged and destroyed. Tucking it in the pocket of her shorts, she sighed. "Whatever. Let's just go. I've had enough of the woods to last me the rest of the week."

Scott half-smiled. "Just the week?"

She snorted. "I have to jog _somewhere_."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

It was pouring outside. Which should have been a warning not to take Shiloh for a walk, but not only had Malia promised her exactly that, but Shiloh had been stuck around the house all day and deserved a chance to stretch her legs and explore. Besides, for Malia, being outside was a good way to work through her thoughts and being at home wasn't always a joy. Her dad had been moody lately. More so than usual. It was no understatement to say that they didn't talk much as it was, but lately it felt like he went out of his way to avoid her. It caused a strange sort of tension in the house, which meant leaving it felt even better.

Since Shiloh was used to walking with her, Malia tended not to leash her as much as maybe the local bi-law enforcers would suggest. She was well-trained and answered when Malia called her back nine times out of ten. Besides, they were walking down a well-known road that didn't see a whole lot of traffic, late enough at night that there were even fewer people driving around. She figured they'd be okay.

After a quick stop at McDonalds— where she picked up some scrapped meat for Shiloh— they started the slow trek back toward the house. Malia still had some homework to get to before she went to bed, but she was having trouble focusing. There was just something about what happened in the woods earlier that wouldn't leave her alone; a weird feeling she got when Derek Hale confronted them. She couldn't explain it…

A squirrel darted across the road, drawing Shiloh's attention. Her whole body tensed before she started barking and raced after it.

"Shiloh, no! Hey, come back here!" Malia chased after her, shoes slapping against puddles, useless leash dangling from her hand. "Shiloh, stop!"

She didn't see the car. And she was pretty sure the car didn't see her.

But then the brakes squealed and a familiar yelp rang out. Malia's heart jumped in her chest and her feet stumbled beneath her. "No," she whispered. A cold blanket of fear wrapped around her. " _No, no, no_." She raced toward the car and skidded to a halt, falling to her knees on the wet cement.

The car door swung open and a frantic voice could be heard. "I'm so sorry! I- I didn't see you. I took my eyes off the road for just _two_ seconds to change the song on my iPod and— It's no excuse!"

Malia let out a shaky, but relieved breath to find that Shiloh was still breathing. Clearly in pain, but alive, at least. Her heart beat fast under Malia's palm and she squirmed, whimpering.

"Is he okay?"

"She's alive, but she's hurt." Malia pushed her soaking wet hair back from her face and dipped lower, whispering soothing words as she rubbed her hands over Shiloh's head. "You're gonna be okay. I've got you, Shi."

"I- I can give you a ride. Is there a vet nearby? Whatever you need, I'll help!"

Malia looked up, half-angry and half-guilty. While a part of her wanted to put all the blame on this girl, an equal part of her knew that she should've leashed Shiloh. In the end, all that mattered was that Shiloh was alive and needed help. "I know a place. They're not technically open, but it's fine." She leaned back to stand and paused for a moment, suddenly recognizing the girl in front of her.

Allison stared at her, worried and scared. "I… I know you, don't I? You go to my school. I think I saw you at that lacrosse practice, too."

"Yeah. Malia Tate."

"Allison Argent." She gave a vague wave and an even more awkward smile. "Not exactly the first impression I like to leave."

"Help me get her into your car and we can change that."

"Yeah, of course. Just let me open the trunk." She hurried away, moving to the back of the car and getting the hatch open.

Malia reached for Shiloh, carefully lifting her up into her arms. She wasn't light, but she wasn't exactly heavy either. Truth be told, she was mostly fur. Usually soft, but with the rain, she felt more like a mushy cloud. Shiloh whimpered in her arms, shifting and crying in panicked fear.

"I know, I know, it hurts." Malia moved to the tail end of the car. "Shhh… You're gonna be okay." She gently laid Shiloh down on the floor of the trunk before quickly closing it and racing around to the passenger seat. Climbing in, she wiped the rain from her face with the sleeve of her jacket and looked to a panicked Allison. Her eyes were wide, her face drained of color, and her teeth were chattering. "It's all right. We just need to get her some help."

Allison nodded jerkily. "I really am sorry. I'm so stupid. I never should've looked away from the road—"

"Look, I'm not going to take a hit out on you or anything. I just want to get her fixed up." She nodded her chin forward. "Go that way. There's a clinic not too far from here."

Putting her car in gear, Allison took off, listening to each of Malia's directions intently.

"Can I ask…? What were you doing walking around in weather like this?" Allison shifted in her seat. " _Not_ that I'm blaming you!"

"It's fine. Shiloh needed a walk. Rain or shine, that's kind of my job, so…" She shrugged. "Anyway, it's usually nice when it's like this. Most people stay inside, so we've got the roads to ourselves."

"Until some lunatic drives right over you…" Allison sighed.

Malia's mouth hitched up faintly. "Shiloh's tough. Seriously, she'll be okay. I know she will." She kind of had to be.

Malia loved her dog. Shiloh was a gift from her dad when she was eleven and the first thing she really attached to after the accident. Scott and Stiles were friends, but she could admit that she had been holding back even then. She liked them, but she was scared to get too close just in case they ended up leaving or dying on her, too. But once Shiloh was put in her arms, that fear melted away. She immediately became Malia's best friend and companion, and she'd been that way ever since. At five years old, she was still an excitable puppy and Malia refused to lose her to something like this.

Allison pulled the car into the parking lot just outside of the vet clinic and Malia hopped out.

"I'll go ahead and let them know we're here," Allison offered, already jogging toward the front door.

Malia made her way around to the back of the car, pressing a hand flat against the wet glass. She could hear Shiloh whining inside and her heart wrenched.

The slap of feet against wet pavement alerted her that Allison was back. She looked up to see a wet and surprised Scott staring back at her.

"Lia?" He reached for her, gripping her arms tightly. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"It was my fault," Allison said.

Malia glanced at her. "I'm pretty sure I take equal blame."

While Allison was unlocking the trunk, Malia focused to Scott. "She was off leash. It was stupid. I wasn't really thinking. She saw a squirrel and the next thing I know, she's a puppy speedbump."

A sharp bark let them know that Shiloh was scared and unnerved by everything going on around them.

Malia turned to see Allison jumping out of range.

"You okay?" Scott asked her, releasing Malia to step around the car. "She's just frightened."

Allison hugged her arms around herself nervously. "That makes two of us."

Scott's answering smile was gentle. "It's probably not you. Shiloh's pretty particular about who she likes."

Malia made her way around the car to better see her dog, who whimpered as soon as she caught sight of her. "I know… But don't worry, we'll get you fixed up. Right?" She looked to Scott.

"Of course." He stepped forward, pausing when Shiloh growled at him. He bent a little lower and caught Shiloh's eye, holding on for a few seconds. Abruptly, Shiloh let out a whine and let her head fall back in submission.

"Vet powers activated," Malia muttered.

Scott tossed her a grin before reaching in to pick Shiloh up in his arms. "Let's get you somewhere warm, huh?"

Malia closed the trunk door and followed Scott toward the clinic. When Allison lingered uncertainly behind them, Malia waved her in. "You might as well come. You won't be able to sleep if you don't find out what happens."

Allison hesitated only a second longer before hurrying to catch up, falling into stride at Malia's side.

They made their way to a back room, where Scott was laying her down on a metal table. Malia and Allison crowded around to watch him work. He gently probed Shiloh's body for any signs of blood or injury. When he was done, he turned to them with a grimace. "I think her leg is broken." His gaze darted between the two girls. "I've seen Deaton do plenty of splints. I can do it myself and then give her a painkiller for now."

Malia nodded, circling around to scrub her fingers between Shiloh's ears. "Guess that means walks are gonna be out for a bit."

"She'll need some time to heal, but I think she'll be okay."

Allison let out a puff of air, her face filled with relief. Her arms were wrapped around herself, rubbing her shoulders as she shivered.

Scott stood a little taller. "I have a shirt in my bag."

"Oh, I don't want to trouble you…" She shook her head.

But Scott was already moving, digging around in his bag and coming up with a long-sleeved grey shirt. "Here."

Allison smiled softly and accepted it. She left the room and made her way into the hallway to exchange her wet shirt for the new one.

Malia tried to keep her attention on Shiloh, but couldn't help a peek at Scott, whose attention had moved to the window in the door, where just a sliver of Allison's back could be seen.

When he looked back, he cleared his throat. "What? I didn't see anything."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Fix my dog, will you?"

He let out a sigh and then started moving around, getting everything he needed to put together a splint. While he worked, Malia kept Shiloh distracted. She grabbed one of the jars stocked full of treats and spoiled Shiloh rotten. In fact, she was pretty sure Shiloh was putting on a little bit of a show just to get more treats out of her. But, Malia didn't mind. She deserved it considering the pain she was probably in and the discomfort that was bound to follow in the coming weeks.

When Allison returned, she was playing with the end of the shirt awkwardly and looking between Malia and Scott. "So… I feel kind of stupid. Not just for the whole iPod thing, but I freaked out like a total girl."

Malia glanced at her. "What's wrong with that?"

"It was such a girly-girl reaction and I'm _not_ a girly-girl." She hugged herself. "How were you so calm? I mean, it's _your_ dog. If anybody should be upset, it's you."

Malia shrugged, her fingers tracing the edges of a brown patch around Shiloh's eye. "I told you, she's tough. She wasn't going to let a minor car accident take her out… Besides, I knew Scott was here. He'd never let anything happen to her." She dropped a kiss on Shiloh's cheek and ruffled her fur. When she looked up, both Allison and Scott were staring at her. "What?"

"Nothing." Scott cleared his throat and shook his head.

"She must get it from her owner," Allison said.

Malia's brow furrowed. "Get what?"

"The mental toughness." Allison smiled. "You were really great about everything. I think I'd be a mess. I kind of was, actually."

Malia hummed. "It's fine now. She'll live. She might even let you sign her cast."

"Oooh…" Allison laughed.

"You're lucky," Scott said. "I hear this breed is very litigious."

Allison clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, I bet she wished she never met me."

"Eh, she's forgiving." Malia nodded to her. "You can pet her if you want."

"Really?" Allison bit her lip.

"It's fine. She'll let you."

Slowly, Allison reached out, carefully placing her hand on Shiloh's left flank and rubbing her fingers through the still-wet fur.

"See? She likes you," Scott said, staring at Allison's profile.

Malia watched surreptitiously as the moment grew heavy. A strange pull between the two of them.

Allison looked over, eyeing Scott curiously. "What?"

He shook his head. "Sorry. You have an eyelash on your cheek."

Allison let out a laugh. "Oh. From the crying…" She reached up to rub at her face.

"Here…" Scott gently rubbed the eyelash away with the edge of his thumb, their gaze caught in the middle.

Allison smiled and said a soft, sweet, "Thanks."

Malia's gaze dropped to Shiloh; a cold zing running through her. It was weird. A part of her was happy for Scott. It was written all over his face just how much he liked Allison. But another part of her was… Not jealous. She refused to acknowledge that any of what she was feeling could be jealousy. But maybe something else. Something similar. Something that felt a lot like… _envy_.

"Malia?"

She looked up sharply, to find them staring back at her. "Sorry?"

"Allison was just saying that she could give you a ride back to your place, if you want."

" _Oh_." Her awkward-meter felt like it was blaring in alarm. "Uh… I can walk."

"It's still raining out." Scott frowned. "And you're at least a twenty-minute walk from here, in the dark, without Shiloh to protect you."

Malia pursed her lips at him. "I'm perfectly capable of keeping myself safe." The self-defence classes her dad had put her in since she was twelve made sure of that.

He sighed at her, his brows raised. "It's late. Shiloh's staying here overnight and I can't exactly give you a ride home on my bike."

Malia considered pointing out that she had, in fact, ridden on the handlebars of his bike countless times before. But, she was tired, and she really wanted to just go home, pass out in bed, and end this day already. "Fine." She looked to Allison. "Thank you."

"It's no problem, seriously." Her smile was genuine as she said, "I owe you a lot more than that considering what happened."

Malia didn't bother arguing about it anymore. Instead, she turned her attention back to Shiloh, giving her another kiss and hugging her neck. "I'll come see you tomorrow, okay?"

Shiloh yawned up at her.

"I'll get her settled in a kennel," Scott promised.

Together, the three of them made their way outside to Allison's lone car in the parking lot.

"Text me when you get home?" Scott asked, looking at Malia beseechingly.

She rolled her eyes. "Because the short walk from Allison's car to my front door is oh so deadly…" When he wouldn't give up on the puppy-dog look, she sighed. "Yeah, fine, I'll text you."

His smile was warm and lopsided.

Malia made her way around the car and hopped into the passenger seat. She tried not to eavesdrop, but Allison left her door open as she and Scott talked.

"So, um— I was wondering— I mean— Is it really family night on Friday, or do you think maybe you'd like to go to that party with me?"

Malia went still, her hand tightening around the handle of her seatbelt as she plugged it in.

"Family night was a total lie," Allison admitted.

"So, is that a yes, you'll go?"

The hope in Scott's voice simultaneously made Malia's stomach lift and sink. It was like a boat in rocky seas. She didn't know whether to be happy for him or incredibly disappointed for herself. Hadn't she just been thinking that anybody would be lucky to date Scott? That he deserved to be happy and have someone? She still thought that. She was just becoming all too aware that the 'someone' in question had been a little more specific than she was willing to admit.

"Definitely yes," Allison said.

Scott let out a happy laugh and nodded. "Okay, great. I, uh, I'll see you tomorrow then, at school."

"Yeah. Have a good night. And… thanks. For tonight, all of this."

"Sure. No problem."

As Allison climbed in the car, Scott bent, waving at Malia one last time.

She sent him a faint and forced smile before turning her attention elsewhere, staring out the window in the opposite direction.

Allison pulled out of the parking lot and toward the road. "You're gonna have to tell me where I'm going again."

"Sure. It's that way." She pointed and then sunk into the seat.

The ride was quiet. Uncomfortably so.

Allison's fingers drummed against the steering wheel and she opened her mouth a few times to say something but never quite got it out. Eventually, she blurted, "So, you and Scott are friends?"

Malia hummed.

"You're close then?"

A beat passed before Malia tore her gaze away from the window and turned it on Allison. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I tend to be blunt."

"I picked up on that, yeah."

"I like to think it's equal parts impatience and not really caring what other people think. So, just ask me what you really want to ask me."

Allison nodded, but nibbled on her lip for a few seconds. "I guess, what I'm trying to ask is… I'm not stepping on any toes, right? Going to this party with him. Basically, going on a date, it's not… I mean, you and Scott aren't…?"

A lump filled Malia's throat. A very petty part of her wanted to tell Allison that actually, she was in Scott's bed last night. No, it wasn't some heady, passion-filled sex fest, but it was intimate in its own way. And it was special to her. But then she remembered the awe and excitement on his face when Allison was just inches away from him; when his thumb brushed her cheek; when she agreed to go to the party with him. Even though a part of Malia felt possessive and territorial over Scott, the rest of her just wanted him to be happy, and it was being made abundantly clear to her that he wasn't looking for that in her. It was okay. It hurt, yeah. But it was okay.

"We're friends. _Just_ friends."

"Are you sure? Because you hesitated a bit."

"I'm sure." She stared at Allison. "He's one of my best friends and he always will be. I'm not going to give you some cliched speech about kicking your ass if you break his heart. Hearts break and things don't always work out. All I really know is that he really seems to like you, and I think you like him, too. So, go for it, I guess."

Allison nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Turn left up here. My house is just up that road."

The dirt road was bumpy, meaning Allison had to slow down unless they wanted to be bouncing around the car, jarred left and right the whole way down. But eventually, they pulled up just short of Malia's lawn. The porch light was still on, just as she left it, but the rest of the lights were out, meaning her dad had long gone to bed.

"Thanks." Malia reached for the door handle.

"Let me know what the damage is with Shiloh. I'll pay for the medical bills and everything. Or my dad will and I'll come up with some kind of repayment plan with him."

"Will do." She climbed out of the car then, shivering from the cold that had recently sunk into her bones.

"Hey, Malia…" Allison leaned over the center console to see her better. "Um, I know we don't know each other very well, and we definitely met under some really awful circumstances, but… Maybe we can hang out sometime? If you're up for that?"

Malia nodded slowly. "Uh, sure. Yeah. We can make that work."

"Okay. Great." Allison smiled. "Well, I'll let you go. I think I've interrupted your night enough. See you at school tomorrow!"

"Yeah, you, too." Malia closed the car door behind her and made her way up the drive. She hopped up the stairs of her porch, looking back to wave goodbye to the slowly retreating car, headlights nearly blinding her in the process.

Letting herself inside the house, Malia let out a sigh. A stab of guilt and loneliness filled her as the familiar sound of Shiloh's nails clacking against the wood floor didn't follow behind her. As brave as she'd been with both Allison and Scott, a part of her was scared. Shiloh was her most beloved companion. She wasn't sure what she'd do without her, but she knew she'd be a mess.

Making herself a peanut butter and honey sandwich and pouring herself a glass of milk, she took both with her to her room. Studying was out, her head just wasn't in it, but a quick snack before bed was exactly what she needed. Her room felt distinctly empty without Shiloh there to steal half her bed and beg for her sandwich. Malia was already looking forward to hearing Dr. Deaton tell her she could bring Shiloh home, even if she'd have to force her to take it easy for a while.

Leaving her snack on her desk, Malia stripped down out of her wet clothes and dropped them in her hamper. As tired as she was and as much as she wanted to head straight to bed, she instead dragged herself to her bathroom. Turning up the water as hot as she could take it, she hopped in for a quick shower, mostly to warm her body back up. The rain had soaked through and left her feeling achy and shivery. Not a feeling she enjoyed.

When she jumped out, she pulled on a pair of sweat pants and the sweater she'd borrowed from Scott that morning before making her way back to bed. Her sandwich had gone a little dry in the time she'd been gone, but she hardly noticed. As hungry as she was, she ate it in three giant bites and then dusted the crumbs off her hands.

Crawling into bed, she turned out her bedside lamp and unplugged her phone, happy to see it light up without problem. Thumbing through a few messages, she found a bunch from Stiles, one of which let her know he'd heard about Shiloh and hoped she felt better soon. Another saying he heard Scott had a date with Allison, followed by a celebration emoji and then a question mark.

Malia sighed before returning the celebration emoji in kindness.

—' _you know you can be honest with me right?'_ he texted back. ' _it's okay to be upset. if anybody knows something about unrequited love, i think i got the market cornered.'_

Malia frowned. — ' _i'm fine. thanks for worrying but i'm okay. i'm happy for him. REALLY._ '

—' _okay. but if you change your mind about venting, you know where i am_.'

She smiled. —' _i know_.'

As much as Scott was her best friend, Malia sometimes forgot that Stiles was equally as important. They each brought their own strengths to the table; neither of them better nor worse than the other. She was lucky to have them. For that reason, she sent Stiles a heart and ghost emoji.

He replied with a laughing-to-tears emoji and —' _morbid, but it works. love you too_. _night._ '

Malia grinned and turned over onto her side, ready to put her phone away and get some sleep. But just as she was about to put it down, it dinged, calling her attention once more.

— _'hey, did you make it home okay?_ '

Malia stared at Scott's name on her messages for a moment. She considered not answering. It was dumb and petty, she knew that, but she still wanted to do it. Instead, she wrote back— ' _yup. just heading to bed. i'll see you tomorrow.'_

— _'okay.'_

Her phone went quiet for all of a minute before— ' _are you sure you're okay? i know you were probably scared and worried about shiloh. but i think she's going to be okay. she'll be back on her feet in no time._ '

— ' _i'm fine. and i know. she takes after me_.'

— ' _so we're okay then?_ '

— ' _yeah of course. why wouldn't we be?_ '

— ' _idk. i just wanted to make sure_.' He added a heart emoji to the end of his sentence.

She held her phone above her face, staring at that bright red monstrosity, mocking her like an asshole. It wasn't the first time he'd sent that particular emoji. Scott was affectionate. He'd sent it to her a thousand times in the past. But for some reason, now it just felt different. Wrong somehow. Like vinegar on an open wound. Scott had a date on Friday. Maybe by Saturday, he'd officially have a girlfriend. And here she was, pining over him like some kind of lovesick puppy. It was dumb and it only made her angry with herself that she still cared.

With a sigh, she quickly typed out: —' _we're good. i'll see you tomorrow. night_.' No hearts. No nothing. Just quick, short, and simple. She knew he wouldn't pick up on that subtle change. In the end, it was really for her. A reminder to let go and move on.

—' _night'_

With that, Malia put her phone on her bedside table, face down. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Dropping her face to her pillow, she squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to sleep. Tomorrow, she could start fresh. Just friendship, nothing more. She'd free herself of these stupid feelings if it was the last thing she did.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _i want to seriously thank all of you that left a review on the first chapter! it was super encouraging and i'm really hoping you'll all stick around through the rest of this fic. i know it's taking a little time to pick up, but i'm establishing malia as a character in this verse and fleshing out her friendship with scott, stiles, and eventually, allison._

 _in the original pilot, allison accidentally hits a dog which leads to her first big moment with scott. i saw an opportunity to explore that with malia and give her and allison an awkward beginning point for their friendship._

 _also, i'm currently in complete denial and have not had a chance to watch the series finale. i'm hoping to get to it this weekend, in between writing. i have a ton of this already done, but it will be a pretty massive story. so, something to look forward to! :)_

 _i hope you liked it, please try to leave a review! :)_  
\- **Lee | Fina**


	3. wolf moon 3

**word count** : 9,100  
 **polyvore** : look for 'sarcasticfina' - check under collections for one named after this story  
 **episode** : pilot - "wolf moon" (continued)

* * *

 **iii**

* * *

The morning after Shiloh's accident saw Malia sitting on a cement block outside of the vet's clinic, waiting on Dr. Deaton to arrive. She'd texted Stiles on the way, letting him know she'd walk to school and would probably be a little late. She was swinging her legs side to side, desperately missing her bed, and trying to tamp down on the worry that had been eating away at her stomach all night. It was strange to be in her room and not hear the familiar sound of Shiloh's snoring or her little paws moving as she no doubt dreamt of chasing something. Her room, her house, _her_ ; it all felt a little emptier without Shiloh.

"Malia," a warm voice called. "I wasn't sure I'd see you here this morning. Scott let me know about Shiloh, but our morning hours are so close to school…"

She hopped off the cement block and walked toward him. "I think first period English can survive without me for a little while."

"Well, from what Scott says, it sounds like Shiloh has a break. It's going to take some time to heal and, knowing her, she's going to be a fussy patient. Now, there is an option with things like these…" He opened the clinic door to let her inside first and then followed. "Depending on the dog, if they're too spirited to rest, you can have her stay with us for the first while, until we're sure she won't do more damage to herself. But, if you think you can keep her comfortable and not extend herself too much, then by all means, take her home."

Malia couldn't help but think of the cost around having her stay. She knew Dr. Deaton was a good guy and would do whatever he could to help her out, but she also didn't want to be a burden. Sure, Allison had offered to cover the bills, but she was also relying on her dad to help. And really, it was her fault for not keeping Shiloh leashed at the time of the accident. "Can I take her home and see how she does first? If I don't think I can handle it, then maybe we can reconsider having her stay here."

"That works, too. I'm guessing you won't be able to pick her up until after school, though?"

"Yeah. I just really wanted to see her, make sure she's doing okay."

"That's fine." He smiled. "I need to double check the stint and make sure it's actually a break. I'm not doubting Scott, but it's always good to make sure."

Malia nodded, following him into the exam room. While she waited there, Deaton made his way to the kennels to retrieve Shiloh. She wasn't crying or whimpering as much as she had been the night before, but as soon as she saw Malia, she started wiggling excitedly.

"Hey, girl…" Malia stood at the head of the metal bed, soothingly petting her hands over Shiloh's head. "How're you feeling, huh?"

Shiloh let out a succession of barks and Malia grinned.

"Talkative this morning. I bet you're just mad because you didn't get half my breakfast."

Shiloh's tongue lolled as she panted, staring up at Malia happily.

Meanwhile, Deaton was checking out her leg, carefully probing the area. "I think Scott was right. There is a fracture. I can feel a lump and around the knee joint here. I'm going to take an x-ray to be sure, but I'm pretty positive."

"Is it bad?"

"Why don't we take an x-ray now and put any fears to rest?"

Malia nodded. She stepped back from the table, arms hugged around herself, and waited. Impatience was a key part of her personality, but when worry was added in, it made her jittery. Her knee was jumping as she stood apart, waiting for an answer that might knock her legs right out from under her. What if the break was really bad? What if he said the dreaded— _it might be better to put her down?_ Could Malia do that? If it was a matter of comfort and pain, yes, probably. The last thing she wanted was for Shiloh to be in pain. But, if it was a matter of time and money, then no. She'd just have to find a way to pay for it. Maybe that was idealistic of her, but she just couldn't imagine letting Shiloh go like that.

The x-rays took a few minutes, but eventually, they had their results.

"Okay, so she does have a fracture," Deaton said. "But, from what I'm seeing, it's small and it doesn't need surgery. A splint should be enough for now." At her worried look, he said, "I know it sounds scary, but it could be worse. It hasn't broken through the skin, but it does need to be stabilized so it can heal."

"How long should that take?"

"Anywhere from 6 to 12 weeks." At her grimace, he nodded. "It's not an insignificant amount of time and it will take some getting used to. She's an active dog, she won't like having to rest so much. But, she'll have to."

Malia sighed, her fingers gently combing through Shiloh's fur. "She's gonna be okay, though?"

Deaton smiled. "Absolutely."

Relief flooded her. "Okay. Great. Um, so I'll pick her up later today. I think the boys have a scrimmage. But after that, as soon as possible."

"That's fine." He removed his gloves and tossed them as he added, "I'm surprised your dad isn't here with you. He used to come to all of Shiloh's check ups."

Malia felt a sharp tug in her gut. "Yeah, well, it all happened so late and he was already at work when I got up. He doesn't even know it happened." She waved it off. "I'll tell him later. I don't want to bother him at work."

Deaton stared at her a beat, before nodding. "Okay. Well, we can figure things out when you drop in later today. But, you should get to school. I imagine first period English will benefit from having you."

Half-smiling, she nodded. "Thanks, Dr. Deaton. I appreciate it."

"It's no problem, Malia. Have a nice day, and I'll see you later."

With a wave, she left the exam room and made her way to the front. The 'closed' sign was still turned in the door window as she walked outside. Checking her phone for the time, she cursed. She really was going to be late.

 _Honk!_

Malia looked up, a slow grin forming as she saw Stiles sitting in his jeep, waving at her through the window. "Hurry up!"

Rolling her eyes, she jogged across the parking lot and hopped into the jeep, closing the door _gently_ behind her. "Hey. What're you doing here?"

"Maybe I'm just a good friend looking out for your education." He put the jeep in reverse and looked over his shoulder as he backed up.

"Uh-huh. Why are you _really_ here?"

Pulling out onto the road, Stiles said, "I thought you might wanna talk. I know you said you didn't last night, but I don't know. Maybe it was too fresh then."

Malia's appreciation for the ride dwindled. Her eyes narrowed and she squinted, staring out the window, her lips pursed. "It's not a big deal. So, Scott has a date with a really nice girl who ran over my dog..."

Stiles snorted. "Sounds even worse when you put it that way."

She sighed. "It's dumb. I don't even know when I started liking him like this. It'll go away. I'm just being weird."

" _Or_ … you've felt like this for a while and you just didn't realize it. And now that you have, it'll only get worse."

"Great, thanks for being my early morning buzzkill."

Stiles merely grinned. "All I'm saying is, this isn't the worst thing."

" _How?_ I have a crush on my best friend—"

He cleared his throat pointedly.

"— _one_ of my best friends—"

"Thank you."

"—and he has a crush on someone else." She shook her head. "That's the definition of 'suck.'"

"It's _a_ definition, yeah. But, I mean, who even is this girl?" He tossed a hand in the air. "Huh? How do we even know it'll last?"

"You didn't see how he looked at her…" She sunk lower in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. "There were little cartoon hearts dancing around his stupid, floppy head."

"So, it's puppy love… Heh, literally. There was a dog involved and everything."

"Shut up," she muttered.

"Look, all I'm saying is that we shouldn't jump to conclusions. Maybe they don't work out. Or maybe he wakes up and realizes what's right in front of him. You don't know."

She shot him the side-eye, unconvinced. "I know you're trying to be supportive, but how about something more constructive? Like, how to get over somebody."

"Uh… I don't know if you've noticed, but I am _not_ the guy to ask that. I've had a crush on Lydia Martin since like, kindergarten. And I don't think it's going anywhere anytime soon."

Malia sighed. "Then I'll just suffer silently."

"Not _totally_ silently." He reached over and gripped her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "I meant what I said. If you ever wanna talk…"

Despite herself, she smiled faintly. "I know. And I appreciate it."

His hand flipped up, pressed against her forehead. "You _appreciate_ it? Are you sure you don't have a fever?"

Slapping his hand away, she glared, but there was no heat in it.

Stiles just laughed.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up in front of the school just as the second bell was ringing and had to race inside to get their seats. Scott stared at them, brow furrowed, but they merely shrugged. They'd tell him about the vet visit at break.

"So glad you could join us, Mr. Stilinski, Miss. Tate," the teacher said, his tone sharp.

"Glad to be here," Stiles said in return.

With a sigh, the teacher returned to his lesson, and Malia dug her books out to get to work, pointedly not looking at Scott, even though she could feel his gaze lingering on the side of her face.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Malia, hey!"

Walking down the hallway, Malia slowed her steps and turned to see a nervous Allison approaching her. "Hey," she greeted, waiting for her to catch up before continuing on her way.

"Hey." Allison wrinkled her nose. "I already said that. Sorry, I guess I'm nervous."

Malia's brow furrowed. "What about?"

"Well, less than 24 hours ago, I ran your dog over. That's not exactly a great basis for friendship."

Malia shrugged. "It's fine. I checked in this morning. She's gonna be okay. Her leg is definitely broken, but it's not too bad. Some rest and a lot of treats and she'll be back to golden in no time."

Allison let out a gust of air in relief. "Good! I'm really glad to hear that."

"Yeah. Me, too." She pushed the front door open and skipped down the stairs.

Allison followed after her, tugging at the strings on her bag. "I- I'm not bugging you. Am I?"

Shaking her head, Malia pulled her backpack of her shoulder. "Nope. I was just gonna have lunch out here."

"Cool." She nodded and followed Malia over to a tree, taking a seat in the grass and pulling out her own packed lunch. "At my old school, we basically lived off cafeteria food. And not the good kind either."

"There's _good_ cafeteria food?"

She snorted a laugh. "You'd be surprised. I've come across it a few times."

Malia raised an eyebrow as she started peeling an orange. "How many cafeterias have you tested?"

"Too many. We move around a lot because of my dad's job. Doesn't exactly make for an easy school experience."

"I bet, just when you're making friends you have to start all over."

Allison nodded while she popped the lid off a container with her sandwich in it. "What about you?" she wondered, picking off the top piece of bread to check the pickles inside were properly lined up.

"It's always been Beacon Hills. I think we lived in another county when I was really little, but we moved here before I started kindergarten. So, same school, same faces. Mostly. Every once in a while, we get new people."

"That must be nice. Always knowing everybody." She took a bite out of the corner of her sandwich, pressing her hand to her mouth to wipe away any excess crumbs.

"Sometimes. But just because we know each other doesn't mean we like each other…" She looked off to the side, watching Jackson and Danny walk down the path toward the parking lot.

Danny caught sight of her and nodded in hello. Malia returned the sentiment before turning back to Allison.

"I know Jackson," Allison said. "He's with Lydia. But I don't know the other guy."

"Danny Mahealani. He's on the lacrosse team, too. Nice guy."

She nodded. "I guess lacrosse is kind of a big deal out here."

"Probably more than it needs to be." Malia shrugged. "Every school has it's thing, I guess. It's like Beacon Hills' version of high stakes football."

"Yeah." Allison's nose wrinkled as she let out a laugh. "I think I prefer football."

Malia laughed. "I run track, so I'd trade both. But, Scott and Stiles seem to like it, so." She shrugged. "You won't catch me waving pom-pom's, but I do go to the games to support them."

"That's cool." Allison picked at her sandwich. "Stiles is the guy that's always with Scott, right?"

"Yeah, they're best friends. More like brothers, really. He's a total goofball." She grinned affectionately. "They both are."

"I kind of envy you." Allison's brow furrowed. "I wish I had friends like that. I try to keep in touch with people after we move but it's hard. Life keeps going when you're gone, you know?"

"Well, you'll just have to make the best of how long you're here." Malia tossed over a bag of cookies for them to share. "You seem to be getting along with Lydia."

"Yeah… I like her. I mean, she's a little…"

"Aggressive?"

" _Yes_." She laughed. "I don't know. I like it. She really knows who she is and that's… admirable. But it can be a little much. Sometimes I get overwhelmed."

"I get it. Lydia's picky about who she hangs out with, which means she really likes you."

Allison perked up. "You think?"

"Sure. I mean, most of my friends are boys, but it can't be that different. Besides, I've been going to school with Lydia since I was five. She's not shy about what she wants and it looks like she really wants your friendship."

Speaking of…

"There you are!" Lydia Martin came marching down the stairs and stalked over to Malia and Allison, one hand on her hip. "I've been looking everywhere for you. I even checked the second-floor bathrooms." Her nose wrinkled and shuddered. " _Never again_."

Perplexed, Allison sent a confused look in Malia's section.

"They smell funny and they haven't been remodeled since the 80's. Most of the stoners hang out there because people generally avoid them. Everybody else just uses the main floor bathrooms."

"Right." Lydia glanced at Malia and then back to Allison slowly. "Why are we hanging out with Terrible Tate?"

"Lydia!" Allison stared up at her with wide eyes.

"What? I didn't give her the nickname!"

"It's fine. I kind of like it." Malia grinned. "I like the sense of infamy it gives."

"See?" Lydia motioned to her. "Now can we go?"

"I'm eating." Allison motioned to her sandwich.

With a huff, Lydia tapped her foot, but when Allison didn't look like she was going to move, she gave in. "Fine." Taking her purse off her shoulder, Lydia carefully took a seat in the grass, tucking her legs underneath her and smoothing out her dress. She reached out and stole one of the cookies from the bag, taking a bite and brushing off the crumbs as they fell in her lap. "So, there's another scrimmage after school. First elimination is this Friday so we _have_ to go."

Malia hummed. "Because your presence will definitely decide who gets cut."

Lydia glared at her. " _No_ … But first-string mimics the social hierarchy. That means that a whole new group of _somebodies_ are about to get their chance in the spotlight. And _you_ …" Lydia turned to Allison, "will have your pick of the very best."

Allison stared at her, a little wide-eyed. "I… _What?_ "

"What _what?_ " Lydia shook her head dismissively. "You're not dating anyone, right? Because long-distance relationships are _so_ passé."

"The passést," Malia snarked.

Lydia ignored her. "C'mon. We can double date!"

Allison filled her mouth with sandwich so as not to answer and Malia grinned. She leaned back against her the tree and continued to eat, listening with half an ear as Lydia talked about all the boys she was pretty sure would make first cut seeing as they had a good season last year, those who might go either way, and those who _definitely_ wouldn't make it.

Eventually, Malia couldn't help herself. "What about Scott and Stiles?"

Lydia looked at her, brow furrowed.

"Scott was in goal yesterday," Allison reminded her.

"Oh, right. _Him_ …" She hummed. "He might make it. If he keeps it up."

"And Stiles?"

Lydia pulled a face. "What the hell is a Stiles?"

Malia took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh, rolling her eyes in the process. "I just remembered I have somewhere to be." Standing, she dusted the seat of her shorts off and grabbed up her bag. "Later, Allison. Lydia."

"Mm!" Allison swallowed what was in her mouth and turned at the waist, following Malia as she left. "You should sit with us later, at the scrimmage." She winced then as Lydia pinched her. " _Ow_."

Malia waved a hand. "Yeah, maybe," she said, before going.

"What part of _Terrible Tate_ did you not get?" Lydia asked in a mock-whisper.

"What's so wrong with her? I like her."

"She's _weird_. She always has been. Ever since her family died in that freaky car accident."

"What?" Allison squeaked. "That's awful!"

"Yeah. Anyway, she totally lost it after that. She snapped and beat up this boy. He was in the hospital for like, a _week_ …"

Malia clenched her teeth but kept walking, climbing the steps two at a time and making her way inside the school. Lydia wasn't wrong. When Malia was ten, after her mom and sister died, she'd been a mess. She had no idea how to deal with their deaths or the guilt she was carrying. She'd been fighting with Kylie before they left. Enough that her mom got mad at her and told her she could stay home if she wasn't going to smarten up. Angry, Malia had yelled at them that she hoped they'd just die, and then she ran off to her room, slamming the door behind her. She didn't mean it. She loved them. She was just upset and it came out; as soon as it had, she wanted to take it back. But Malia was stubborn and full of pride, so she hadn't. Later that same night, a police officer showed up at the door to inform her dad what had happened. Malia watched him sink to the ground and sob; she watched him shatter right in front of her, and she wasn't sure he ever really mended.

Malia didn't go back to school for a couple weeks; she barely left her room. She sat in her closet, clutching one of Kylie's favorite teddy bears, and just cried. But eventually, her dad told her it was time to go back, to find some kind of normality in things. She begged him not to make her, but her dad wouldn't let her stay home even one more day. Malia sat in class but didn't engage. She just stared out the window, shoulders slumped, wishing things were different. The bell rang and she followed the other kids out for recess, taking a seat on a bench and isolating herself from the others. Kids could be cruel. She knew this first hand. She wasn't sure what it was she did or why they suddenly turned their attention to her. But one second she was all alone, lost in her thoughts, and the next there was a boy taunting her. It was stupid playground insults. Just a dumb boy trying to look cool for his friends. Malia didn't bother responding. She didn't care what they thought of her or what they said.

But then someone brought up her mom.

"She probably died 'cause you're so ugly and she didn't want to look at you."

Just a dumb, meaningless, effortlessly cruel jab. It wasn't a matter of ugly or not. That hardly hurt her feelings. But the use of her mother… Her beautiful, loving, caring mom, who she'd told to die just hours before she'd done exactly that. It was like a flame to a wick. One minute, Malia was content to walk away from their stupid words, and the next she was tackling that boy to the ground, her tiny hand balled up into a fist, hitting him over and over and over again. He cried and struggled and that just made her madder. She grabbed the front of his shirt and shook him, screaming in his face with all the hurt and pain and rage that had been building up since she realized she'd lost them.

It was a teacher that pulled her off him, banding their arms around her waist as she kicked and screamed, fists waving wildly. And she saw it— that stark fear in the other kids faces. That moment when they all decided that she was wrong and off and strange. The nickname came later, after her suspension ended and she was allowed back to school. After the boy she beat up was released from the hospital (it was two days, not a week, but still), his face black and blue with bruises, his broken nose taped up.

"Terrible Tate," they said. Just whispers at first, mumbled between themselves, behind their hands and between their giggles. It followed her from elementary school to middle school and even now, to high school. Not with the same fear it once held, even if she'd kicked a few boys in the balls over the years. Instead, now it was a label, a reminder to others that Malia Tate wasn't like them and she never would be. She'd accepted that a long time ago. Even wrapped herself in the notion like a security blanket. She didn't want to be like them. She was perfectly okay being exactly who she was. _Fuck the rest_.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia was late in getting to the lacrosse field; halfway there, her phone had rung and she'd slowed to dig it out of her pocket. Seeing her dad's face on the screen, she frowned but thumbed the Answer button. "Hello?"

Without preamble, her father said, "Malia, why didn't you tell me Shiloh got hurt the other night?"

"I didn't really have a chance. You were sleeping when I got home and gone when I woke up…" She hugged an arm around her waist and kicked aimlessly at the ground. "Anyway, I took care of it. Deaton said it's a small break. She doesn't need surgery or anything."

He sighed. "How much is this going to cost?"

Malia's heart lurched. "Does it matter?"

"Honey, you know I love Shiloh, but money is tight right now."

She ground her teeth. "Look, it's not a big deal. She was clipped by a car and the owner offered to pay the bills. Even if they can't, I'll take care of it. She's my dog. You don't have to worry about this."

"I'm not saying I won't help. I'm just trying to be realistic—"

"I'm not putting her down, dad. She— She's _family_. And she's going to be perfectly fine, so just drop it."

"Malia—"

"I said drop it," she growled, hanging up the phone.

A wave of anger washed over her, heat racing through her veins. A sudden burst of noise filled her ears; overlapped voices, the sharp ring of a whistle, and what sounded like— a pounding heartbeat? Malia rubbed her hands over her face and dragged a deep breath in through her nose.

In a whisper, she said the words that had gotten her through countless panic attacks in the past. " _She is like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness. She rules her life like a fine skylark and when the sky is starless._ _All your life you've never seen a woman taken by the wind. Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win? Will you ever win?_ "

Malia's fondest memory of her mother was the mornings she'd wake her up early and they'd make breakfast together. Malia, clad in her pajamas, would dance around the kitchen while her mother sang along to Fleetwood Mac, using her spatula like a microphone. Her mother had the most beautiful voice. Sure, Malia was biased, but she could hear it so clearly in her head sometimes and it never failed to calm her.

The noise ebbed, the fire in her veins calmed, and she was left with nothing but her hand clenched against her chest, dug in against her skin as if to cage her heart.

A distant whistle reminded her that the scrimmage was still happening. Malia turned to look out toward the lacrosse field before eventually walking in a different direction. It wasn't that she thought her dad would go over her head and tell Deaton to put Shiloh down. He wouldn't be that cruel. But now that the idea was in her head, she wanted to see her. Which was why she left the school and caught a bus that would drop her off just down the street from the vet clinic.

Deaton looked up when she walked through the door, glancing at the clock briefly. "You're earlier than I expected."

"Yeah, well, something came up. Can I see her?"

"Of course." He looked past her to the door. "Do you have a ride to bring her home with you?"

"Not yet. Stiles is at lacrosse practice still." She followed Deaton through the clinic to the kennels at the back. "Was she okay today?"

"Shiloh's one of my best patients. Broken leg or not, she's still one of the most well-behaved dogs I've met. Excitable, but well trained."

Malia smiled. She'd spent a lot of time with Shiloh, working on commands and tricks. It was half the reason she didn't bother leashing her most of the time.

Half-asleep in her kennel, Shiloh wiggled around as soon as Malia came into view.

"Hey, girl." Malia crouched down and opened the metal door, reaching inside to rub her hand down Shiloh's back.

"Malia, I know it's not any of my business, but… Is everything okay with you?"

She didn't answer right away, keeping her gaze on Shiloh, who melted under the focused attention of her owner. "Yeah, I'm all right. It's just been a weird few days."

"I heard about the body they found in the woods… Pretty intense, especially for these parts."

"Yeah." She chewed her lip and then leaned back on her haunches. "Hey, do you know anything about wolves?"

"Wolves?" He stared at her a beat, a brow raised. "I can't say I've had many as patients. Was there something specific you wanted to ask?"

"No, just… I was in the woods not so long ago and I swore I saw one. Heard it howl and everything."

"And you're sure it wasn't a coyote?"

"No. Too big for a coyote." She shook her head. "This one was different. They way it moved. It was like…" It was like it was aware in a way that many animals weren't. For the most part, animals in the preserve kept their distance from the walking paths, having become accustomed to humans and the noise they made. There were always sightings, of course, but most animals were smart enough to stay away from anything that might result in their own death. But this wolf… Or whatever it was… There was just something different about it. Like it had gone _looking_ for them. "Do wolves eat deer?"

"When we did have wolves in California, they were gray wolves, and they'd eat white-tailed deer when they could find them."

"Would they chase a whole herd?"

He hummed thoughtfully. "It's not uncommon for a prey-animal to chase herds and pick off the slowest."

"What about humans? Will they chase humans?"

"Generally, wolves avoid humans. Most prey-animals will unless they're starving or their territory is being invaded. Any wolves around these parts would have a steady diet of rabbits, nutria, and raccoons. While I wouldn't say the chances of a wolf attacking a human is impossible, I would say it's more likely that they'd look for food elsewhere."

She nodded slowly. "Okay. Thanks."

"Sure. Anytime." He stared at her searchingly. "I have a patient coming in soon. Do you mind staying back here with Shiloh alone? I'll let Stiles back when you're ready to go."

"That'd be great!"

Deaton smiled before turning on his heel to leave.

Alone, Malia turned her attention back to Shiloh, who was drifting back to sleep. Leaning forward, she rested an elbow on her knee and continued to pet her. All the while, her mind couldn't stop wondering what it was that was out in the preserve and why it seemed so hostile.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Hey!"

Startled, Malia looked up to find Stiles lingering in the doorway, shoulder resting against the jamb. "Hey," she greeted, pushing herself up to stand. "Scrimmage end early?"

His brow furrowed. "No, it ended late. You've been here for like, two hours."

Digging out her phone, she checked the time and winced in surprise. "I was distracted."

"Must've been." He walked further into the room and over to the kennel. "You want some help with her?"

"No, I've got her." Bending once more, she carefully lifted Shiloh out of the kennel and carried her through the clinic to the front.

There, a man stood talking with Dr. Deaton. He was handsome for his age, with sharp blue eyes, blond hair, and a five o'clock shadow across his dimpled chin.

"You must be Malia," he said with a smile.

Malia frowned, looking from him to Deaton.

"Malia, this is Chris Argent. He came by to settle the bill for Shiloh. He said his daughter was driving when she was hit."

"She's really sorry. She's actually been pretty shaken up about it." Chris kept his attention on Malia. "I know it's not much, but I'm hoping it's enough. The good doctor said that Shiloh here won't need surgery, is that right?"

Malia nodded. She wasn't sure why, but there was an unsettled feeling growing in her gut. "Yeah," she said, her voice a little croaky. "Just a lot of rest and a stint and she should be okay."

"Great." Chris' smile widened. "Well, I hope you won't hold this against Allison. She's a good person who just made a mistake. She really does feel terrible."

"It's fine," Malia said. "No harm, no foul."

He nodded. "Glad to hear it."

Malia stared at him a beat longer and then turned to Stiles. "We should go. I've got homework."

"Of course, I don't want to keep you any longer." Chris stepped out of the way so they could pass. "It was nice meeting you, Malia."

"Yeah, you, too." She walked a little faster to get to the door, pausing to call back a thank you to Deaton before she hurried outside.

"Whoa, what's with the Road Runner routine? Why are we in such a hurry?" Stiles ran ahead to open the door so she could slide Shiloh onto the backseat.

"Nothing. Let's just go." Her nerves felt tight and jittery and she couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was just an overload of everything. Between the animal attack, Scott's new crush, and Shiloh's accident, she felt overwhelmed by the influx of change. Yeah, that seemed logical. Hopping into the front seat of the jeep, she waited impatiently for Stiles to get in on the other side.

Not the least bit nervous, he took his time, digging his keys out of his pocket and flipping through them for the right one.

Malia barely restrained herself from grabbing the keys out of his hand and jabbing the right one into the ignition.

Finally, he found it on his own, started the jeep, and pulled away from the parking lot. The more distance between her and the clinic— or was it Argent?— the more at ease Malia felt.

"So, hey, I was thinking we could pick up something for dinner. Scott's at the hospital, dropping off something for his mom. Maybe we could just grab some take-out, hang out at your place for a bit? Whattya say?"

She nodded. "Yeah, sure, that sounds good."

"Cool. So, Chinese then? Or…?"

She nodded, her gaze on the mirror, staring back at the clinic parking lot. "Yeah, whatever you want…"

Stiles yammered on about something or other, but Malia's focus stayed on the clinic, growing smaller and smaller in the mirror until they turned a corner and it was gone from her sight entirely. A cool feeling of relief rushed though her and she let out a quiet sigh. She wasn't sure what that was, but she was glad it was over.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

For the next two days, Malia spent much of her time alone, often at home with Shiloh. She wasn't entirely sure if she was using Shiloh as an excuse or not. What she was sure of was that she was purposely not answering Scott's texts and avoiding Allison in the halls. The Allison thing she blamed on the whole 'Terrible Tate' situation. As much as they seemed to get along during their lunch break, she found herself wondering if Lydia's opinion and somewhat inaccurate retelling of the origins of her nickname might impact Allison enough to keep her distance as well. This way, if she avoided Allison, she didn't have to find out. It became a matter of _her_ deciding not to have anything to do with Allison. Was it stupid? Probably. But she kept doing it.

Sprawled out on her couch at home, Malia was halfway through a pint of Cherry Garcia while she watched a re-run of Vampire Diaries. Every week she tuned in and every week she was disappointed to find Bonnie Bennett being sidelined. She rolled her eyes at the overly dramatic romance plots and cheered on the underdog that was Bonnie Bennett in all things.

Stiles texted her halfway through the episode to complain. — ' _this is the episode that Grams dies in, right? what a drag! what's the point in knowing everything about the occult if they're just gonna off you?'_

Malia sighed, dropping her spoon back into the carton to thumb back a response. — ' _systemic racism. also, you'd be the grams in our friend group, you know that right?'_

— _'what? no way. i'm not getting killed off in season one! i'm a full series type character!'_

— _'well, your white privilege might keep you on the show, but lets be real, you're the one with a head for weird stuff'_ She added a dead emoji face for emphasis.

— _'i both resent and resemble that!'_ He added a second text — ' _which one are you?_ '

She snorted. — ' _the smart one that leaves town and doesn't send postcards!_ '

— ' _liar. you'd never leave us behind_.'

Malia half-smiled. — ' _guess that makes me bonnie then._ '

— ' _could be worse_ '

Malia watched as Elena begged Bonnie to save Stefan, regardless of the cost, and felt her stomach twist. — ' _yeah, it could_ '

— ' _hey so are we gonna talk about real life anytime soon? like how you're avoiding scott and maybe possibly even allison?_ '

She frowned. — ' _since when are you and allison bffs?_ '

— ' _hardly! but you and me are. i'm not dumb. i've seen you walk in the other direction as soon as you spot her in the halls. she's gonna notice eventually_ '

She shoved another bite of ice cream in her mouth. — ' _i'm not allowed to be mad at the dog runner-over?_ '

' _you said you didn't blame her. it's about scott, right?_ ' When she didn't answer right away, he added another— ' _malia? you can't hide from this forever_.'

— ' _i'm not hiding_ ' She sighed. ' _i'm healing. i just need some time away from it. to get over all of it. is that too much to ask?_ '

— _'no. i'm just worried about you_.'

— ' _stiles, i'm fine. i promise, okay?_ '

— _'pinky swear?_ '

She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her mouth. ' _pinky swear_ '

A sudden rattling noise echoed through the house then, startling Malia where she sat. Shiloh lifted her head from her doggy bed, ears perked, and looked toward the door. Putting her ice cream aside, Malia crossed the floor on her tip-toes, as if being quiet might keep whoever was at her house at 9:30 at night from realizing she was there. Her dad had taken off earlier; he hadn't given an excuse, but Malia had an idea of where'd be. There was a bar he frequented, especially on days they were fighting. But he wouldn't have knocked. Meaning whoever was outside—

"Malia?"

Her racing heartbeat abruptly started to slow. _Scott_.

Dropping her heels down to the floor, she swung the door open and poked her head out. "Did you ride your bike all the way out here?"

He shrugged. "It's not that far."

"It's not exactly close either." She pushed the screen door open and stepped forward, searching his face. "You could've called."

"Would you have answered?"

She frowned. "I've just been busy lately."

"Yeah, I noticed." He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Look, I don't want to bother you, but… I feel like something is going on lately."

Her pulse skittered worriedly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, ever since that night in the woods, when I got bit, things have been weird. I can see, hear, and smell things that I shouldn't be able to see, hear, and smell. I do things that should be impossible, I'm sleepwalking three miles into the middle of the woods, and I'm pretty much convinced that I'm totally out of my freaking mind!"

Malia's brow furrowed. "You sleep-walked into the woods?"

" _Yes!_ " He tossed a hand up as his shoulders slumped. "I know Stiles thinks it's funny and he keeps making all these werewolf jokes, but… I'm _scared_." His face fell as he looked up at her, vulnerable in a way she didn't often see. "What if it's serious?"

Malia shook her head. Reaching out, she hooked her fingers in the sleeve of his hoodie and pulled him inside. "You got your rabies shot, right?"

"Yeah, we have some at work. I took one the next morning." He followed her into the living room and plopped down onto the couch. "Hey, Cherry Garcia!" He grinned.

With a roll of her eyes, she handed him the ice cream and sat back against the arm of the couch, legs crossed under her. "Well, how is the bite healing? Does it stink or anything? Like, infection?"

He paused, spoon dangling from his mouth, and looked away. "That's the thing…" He put the ice cream aside and stood from the couch. Pulling his sweater up, he angled himself to show her his side, where smooth brown skin greeted her.

Malia reached out, her fingers gently grazing the exact spot where the gruesome bite had been, only to find unblemished skin. Scott jumped as her fingers made contact and she quickly recoiled, drawing her hand back into her lap. Frowning, she said, "That's not possible. It should've taken weeks for it to heal. Maybe even months, depending how deep the teeth went."

"I know!" He flopped back down beside her, taking up the ice cream once more and filling his mouth with an oversized bite. "I'm a _freak_."

Rolling her eyes, she stole the spoon from him and took a bite of her own. "There's gotta be a logical reason for this… Have you thought about asking your mom or Deaton?"

"And tell them what? That I was looking for a dead body in the woods, was bitten by some weird animal, have no injuries to prove it, and now I'm in better health than I've ever been?" He shook his head. "I haven't had to use my inhaler all week! My reflexes are better. I'm kicking ass at lacrosse. I really think I'm going to make first-line. And yeah, the hearing and the smelling thing is weird and it comes and goes, but… I mean, it's not the _worst_ thing."

She stared at him a moment. "Okay, then what's the problem?"

"I just… I feel like something big is going to happen. Like this is just the build-up and something a lot worse is coming."

With a quiet sigh, she reached for him, her hand folding around is forearm. "Well, if it does, then we'll deal with it."

He sent her a lopsided smile and slumped back against her couch. "Thanks."

"Sure."

He turned his attention to the TV then and frowned. "That vampire show?"

She glanced at the screen. "Yeah."

"I thought you hated this show."

"I don't _hate_ it…"

"You're always complaining about it."

"That's because I'm _invested_." She glared at him. "Shut up."

He hummed, amused, and held out a bite of ice cream.

Malia leaned over to eat it, licking the spoon clean as she went.

He watched her, his eyes hooded and a small smile upturning his lips. Clearing his throat, he returned his attention to the TV. "So, who's that?"

"Bonnie Bennett. She's a witch."

"Cool."

Malia settled back against the couch and hid her smile. Scott stayed for the rest of the episode before eventually admitting he should probably head home, since they didn't actually live all that close, even with a bike, and he had to get some studying in before bed.

Malia followed him to the door, where they paused for a moment.

Scott stared past her shoulder to Shiloh, resting on her bed still. "She's gonna be okay?"

Malia looked back at her dog with her broken leg and the brace that would help her mend. "Yeah. She will be." When she looked back, Scott's gaze was centered on her face. "Are you excited for tomorrow?"

He smiled goofily. "It's gonna be a good day. I can feel it."

"First-line and then a date." She nodded and crossed her arms. "Life's looking up, huh?"

He ducked his head. "It wasn't terrible before, you know?"

"No. But, this is good. I'm happy for you." She took a deep breath. "You deserve this."

"It's just a game, right?" He started walking backwards down the porch. "And one date."

"Yeah." She watched him go, her chest feeling tight. "Or it's just the start."

His brows furrowed for a beat, but then he smiled. "Night, Lia."

"Night," she said quietly.

She watched him make his way down the stairs to grab his bike, waving to her before he rode off down the bumpy dirt road. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back inside and closed the door behind her.

Shiloh's tail thumped loudly against the floor and Malia walked to her, crouching down to pet her. "I've still got you, hey, Shi?"

Shiloh rolled onto her back and nuzzled Malia's hand.

Malia scrubbed her fingers over Shiloh's ears and told herself this was enough. She was totally happy with this. But even though tomorrow felt like a beginning for Scott, she couldn't help but feel like it was an ending, too.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

The school day was halfway over and Malia was already eager to call it quits. Standing at her locker, she put her books away on the top shelf and replaced them with the next period's. Shiloh had spent much of the night whining. Apparently, she'd gotten more than enough sleep during the day and was content to share her boredom with Malia as loudly and mournfully as she could. Malia didn't actually fall into a fitful sleep until around 2 am, which meant that all she could think of the whole morning was how good a nap sounded.

Closing her locker door, she jumped as she found Allison standing on the other side of it, half-smiling at her. "Hey."

Malia glanced away and then back. "Uh, hey." She locked her locker and hooked her bag over her shoulder. "I'm pretty sure we don't have History together…"

"No, I've got French next." Allison hugged her books to her chest. "Listen, I— I just wanted to apologize for what Lydia said. I know she can be a little abrasive and it probably sucks to hear people call you that… strange nickname."

"It's whatever." Malia shrugged. "Lydia and I aren't friends; she doesn't owe me anything."

"No, but… I kind of felt like maybe we _could_ be, so I don't want something she said to get in the way of that." She stared at Malia searchingly. "I don't know your history and you don't have to tell me. But, I liked hanging out with you the other day."

"Are you sure this isn't some weird pity thing because you ran my dog over?"

A smile stretched across her face. "If anything it's the opposite. I feel _awful_ about that, which actually kind of makes me want to run in the opposite direction every time I see you. Purely out of embarrassment."

"She's back home now and she's healing. I, uh, met your dad, actually. He dropped by the clinic to pay the bill. Thanks for that."

"Oh!" Her eyes widened. "He didn't tell me you met. He kind of grounded me after the whole thing. But, he was glad I took responsibility, so it was really more like a two-day scolding, if anything."

Malia nodded. "That's good. At least you won't miss the party tonight."

"Right." Her face lit up. "I'm looking forward to that. Believe it or not, I didn't get invited to a whole lot of parties in the past."

"No?" They started down the hall together. "Why?"

"New school, I tend to keep my distance. Everybody always has their groups already, you know? It's hard to find a place in that. So, I do my own thing. I tried joining clubs before, like photography or archery or journalism. Only one stuck."

"Let me guess, _archery_." Malia raised an impressed eyebrow. "Cool."

Allison nodded. "Yeah, well. I took gymnastics too, for like eight years. But not a lot of schools have clubs for that."

Malia grinned. "Me, too. My mom got me into it when I was little. I haven't been in a while, though."

"Yeah? Then they have a gym around here? Maybe we could go together sometime. We'll both be rusty, so it won't be _completely_ embarrassing."

With a nod, Malia said, "I could be up for that."

"Cool!" Allison tried and failed to subdue her smile. "So, uh, are you going to the party tonight, too?"

Malia had considered it. After all, Danny had invited her to go. But, the more she thought about it, the less enthused she was. Watching Scott fumble endearingly in front of Allison the whole night was not something she saw herself enjoying. It'd be much more fun to stay home, watch TV, and veg out. "I don't know. I haven't decided yet. Shiloh's stuck at home alone all day already and it's been a long and weird week, so…"

"Oh." Allison nodded, looking disappointed. "Well, if you change your mind, we should hang out. I'll pretty much only know three people there."

"Yeah, if I do, I'll find you."

"Great." Allison paused by a door. "This is me. But… See you later?"

"Yeah. Later." As Allison stepped through the door, Malia continued down the hall, en route for History. Despite how awkward she often felt around Allison, there was a part of Malia that really liked her. She was nice and down to earth. It was kind of refreshing. A logical part of her couldn't help but point out that if things really did work out between Allison and Scott, then it was probably smart to befriend her. If she was going to be hanging around more, then what was the harm in getting to know her?

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia groaned as she stared down at the math work spread in front of her.

Amused, Danny merely sat back in his chair, hands stacked together on his chest. "It's not that hard. And I know you can do it, because I've seen you do it."

"A rare and unrepeatable miracle."

His mouth hitched up. "Malia, you study harder than any other person I've tutored. You're not hopeless."

"My math teacher would _definitely_ disagree." She tapped her pencil against the papers in front of her. "Remind me again what I need math for?"

"It's a long list." He sat forward in his seat. "Hey, so you never said if you were coming to the party tonight?"

"Is there a cap I'm not aware of? Will I be told to go home if you've reached full capacity?"

He rolled his eyes. "No. And Lydia's hosting. Anyway, that was my polite way of asking if you're going to drag your boring ass out of the house and trade your sweat pants in for something that might actually get you laid."

"Hey! I dress for comfort."

"I can see that. Your sweater is the same color as this morning's bowel movement."

" _Ew._ " She grimaced. "And totally uncalled for, by the way. I love this sweater."

Danny shook his head. "All I'm saying is that you can't expect to catch anybody's eye if you're walking around looking like you just rolled out of bed."

"Who said I wanted to catch anyone's eye? In fact, if I remember correctly, I've made a habit of doing the exact opposite."

"Yeah." His brows hiked. "Hiding between McCall and Stilinski has helped you keep a low profile. But, do you really want to spend the rest of high school playing wingman to them?"

"I'm not—"

"Look, Malia, I like you. You're honest and funny and yeah, you're smart, too. This whole 'Terrible Tate' stuff should've died back in primary school. Everybody knows that Kyle made fun of your mom. It was a dick move and really, he deserved the broken nose. But this couldn't-care-less attitude you use like a wall, it's going to hold you back."

Malia wasn't sure what to say. It felt like a weight had tied itself to her tongue, unwilling to let her use it.

"I'm not going to be the clichéd gay that takes you shopping and gives you some over-the-top makeover. That's not me. But, I am going to invite you, _again_ , to come to the party tonight. Wear the brown sweater if you love it so much, just get out of your comfort zone and see what happens."

Drawing a deep breath, she slumped back in her chair. "Fine."

Danny slowly grinned. "Yeah?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Your semi-insulting pep talk worked. Happy?"

"Yes. Now…" He reached over and tapped the papers in front of her. "Let's get to work."

Malia groaned, but leaned forward and plucked up a pencil.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Across town, while Scott and Stiles were attempting to make first line, Malia was just leaving a store, holding a bag with a new outfit that was neither ' _bowel_ ' brown nor incredibly comfortable. But, it would work. She wasn't a dress or skirt kind of person; she much preferred her shorts. But she could trade in her usual tank top and cardigan for something a little more… attention-getting for one night.

Malia was making her way to a nearby coffee store when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Digging it out, she pressed answer and raised it to her ear. "Shouldn't you be playing lacrosse right now?"

"We just finished," Stiles answered. "Scott kicked an insane amount of ass. I don't know where he learned that level of gymnastics, but he killed it! He made first-line!"

She grinned. "Good for him."

"Yeah, yeah, it's great, but listen. You remember the fibers they found on the body?"

"Half the body, but yeah. I think you mentioned it."

"Yeah, so, they sent it off to a lab in LA and the analysis came back…"

Malia rolled her eyes. "Pause for effect over."

"It was animal hairs! You guys were right, it was from a _wolf_."

She paused her stride, her brow furrowed. "But you said…"

"I know what I said. But, I was wrong. Or you two are the first to stumble on the only wolf to wander back to California. Either way, this is big."

She frowned. "Why?"

" _Because_. I know I've been making jokes, but seriously, his reflexes are _crazy_. He keeps saying he can smell weird things, like things he shouldn't be able to smell from so far away. And his asthma is like _gone_. I don't just mean 'not as bad as usual,' I mean it's _gone_."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, of course, but… Okay, you'll think I'm crazy but I've got a theory…"

"I'm listening."

"What if he really is a werewolf?"

Malia scoffed. " _Stiles_ … You know he's worried about whatever bit him. It's not funny."

"I'm not trying to be! I really think something's going on. Look, just— I'm going to do some research and I'll get back to you. But consider this, okay…? Tonight is the full moon and you know what happens then?"

"The crazies come out?"

"Yes. And so do the werewolves."

Malia was pretty sure he hung up on her more for effect than anything. Shaking her head, she continued on her way, stopping at the coffee shop to pick up a cup to go before she made her way to the bus stop. She wanted to get home, shower, and start getting ready for this party. And she very much wanted to forget what Stiles had said, even if the very idea of it had caused a layer of goosebumps to break out across her skin that refused to go away. It couldn't possibly be true. Werewolves didn't exist.

 _Right?_

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _i'm still bitter about tvd, can you tell? anyway,_ _i'm posting this early mostly because i'm so excited about this story and also the response i've been getting has been really encouraging! i'll likely stick to weekends after this, but we'll see! i currently have 60k more written and am writing more each day, so there's a ton more to read. :)_

 _next chapter finally digs into the werewolf of it all! and also, DEREK! plus a whole lot of really sweet scott/malia moments and scott/stiles/malia friendship. yayyy!_

 _thanks for reading, please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	4. wolf moon 4 - second chance 1

**word count** : 12,591  
 **polyvore** : look for 'sarcasticfina' - check under collections for one named after this story  
 **episode** : 1x01 - "wolf moon" (continued); 1x02 - second chance at first line

* * *

 **iv**

* * *

Malia twirled around in her desk chair, regretting every decision that led her to this moment. Her outfit was laid out on the bed, her hair was straightened, and she was sitting in her underwear wondering how much flack she'd get from Danny if she just didn't show up. It was a big party. He probably wouldn't even notice her absence. And really, the last thing she wanted to do was hang out in a place where she only knew four people, two of whom would be flirting with each other. _No, thanks_. Deciding that her best choice was to just cancel, she dug her heels into the carpet to stop her chair and grabbed her phone off her desk to give Stiles a call. Knowing him, he'd still end up going just on the off-chance Lydia acknowledged his existence, so it wouldn't put him out too much. However, just as she was about to pick his name out of her contacts, his face flashed across the screen.

Answering it, she said, "Hey, I was just about to call you. Listen, I'm not really in the partying mood and—"

"You have to go."

She frowned. "I'm pretty sure I don't."

"No, listen, I need you there. Scott is a werewolf, Malia. Like a real, live, straight out of a horror movie, _werewolf_. I researched everything and I told him what I found. With the full moon, he won't just go through physical change. There's other things, too! Like _blood lust_."

There are some things that people simple could not be prepared to hear. Regardless of the conversation she'd had with Stiles earlier, a part of her still fully believed he was just being an overdramatic ass. "… _what?_ "

"I know it sounds crazy, but you didn't see him. I- I told him what was happening and he just snapped! He pushed me against a wall and he was going to do a _lot_ worse. I could see it in his face, okay?"

"Well, this date is really important to him…" She chewed her lip, her stomach twisted up in the kind of knots that broke nails when you tried to unravel them. "He really pushed you?"

" _Yes!_ He's just, he's not himself. And I'm going to need your help, because if something does go wrong, he could really hurt someone. Worse, he could hurt himself. So just… Get ready, okay? I'm already halfway to your house. You're going to this party with me and we're going to save his furry ass if it's the last thing we do."

Malia nodded and rubbed a hand over her forehead. She wasn't completely sold on the 'werewolf' thing, but if he was that worried about Scott, then she at least wanted to check in and make sure he was okay for herself. "All right. I'll see you soon."

Stiles let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you. I'm about ten minutes away."

"Okay."

Hanging up, Malia turned to her bed, eyeing the clothes laid out in front of her with a frown. She wondered what she'd ever done to life that it had to keep screwing her over.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

"Can we talk about this outfit?" Stiles put his jeep in park, just down the hill from Lydia's house. Either side of the street was lined with cars and, even from a distance, they could make out the bass of the music.

Malia tugged at the bottom of her top, regretting her idea to step well out of her fashion comfort zone. "It's just clothes."

"Yeah, but it's…" His brows hiked. " _Hot_."

She glared at him.

He held his hands up in surrender. "I'm just saying… You're pulling it off."

"Whatever." She pushed open the jeep door and hopped down, wishing she'd brought a cardigan or a jacket to cover up her arms at least. She felt kind of naked. Maybe Danny was right; her clothes had become a safety blanket of sorts. Given how chilly it was, however, she wasn't sure that was a terrible thing right now.

"C'mon." Stiles circled around to walk with her up the hill. "We should probably split up. When one of us finds him, we can let the other know."

"And then what?"

He shrugged and tossed a hand up. "We convince him he has a furry little problem and get the hell out of there."

"You realize that this whole werewolf theory is nuts, right?" She shook her head. "Werewolves aren't real. They can't be! And seriously, this is _Scott_."

"I don't think they took a census to figure out which guy would fit in their pack. I think they just bit him because he was there." His brows hiked as he turned to her. "It chased you too, didn't it? You'd probably be in the same boat as Scott if it caught you."

"Yeah, or the bite was superficial and Scott's just going through some kind of weird growth-spurt, I don't know." They passed a few familiar faces as they made their way inside Lydia's house, which was packed with people. The music was so loud that Malia could hardly hear herself think. She winced and turned to Stiles. "Well?"

"I'm going this way." Stiles motioned to the left with his thumb. "If you see him…" He waved his phone at her and tapped the screen. "Text me."

Malia nodded before walking off to the right, weaving between people as they clustered together in groups. Her gaze bounced around the room in search of a familiar mop of brown hair. She spotted Danny, red solo cup in hand, flirting with a cute guy she didn't recognize. She waited until she caught his eye and then nodded in greeting. He grinned in return, raised his cup, and tipped it at her, as if to say 'cheers' for actually dragging herself out of the house.

Leaving him to his flirting, Malia made her way to the sliding glass doors overlooking the back. The porch served as a makeshift dancefloor and it was there that Malia spotted him. Scott wearing that oversized brown jacket of his that hung well past his fingers and a pair of blue jeans, about as close to dressed up as she'd ever seen him. One of his hands was on Allison's hip, the other brushing her hair off her shoulder. Allison's hands were interlocked behind his neck, their foreheads close, but not touching as they dance, lost in each other.

The crowd around them was a mixed bag of friends and couples, a collection or red and blue cups raised about their heads as they moved along to the beat. Malia lingered longer than she meant to, feeling like a complete creeper. She watched the smile grow on Scott's face. He looked happy and enthralled. So did Allison.

Malia's stomach bottomed out and sunk as low as her feet. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid. More than the discomfort of social interaction with complete strangers. Just witnessing them together first hand. Backing up, Malia turned to leave, figuring she could catch up to Stiles easy enough. He should be happy to know that Scott was just as human as ever.

She walked deeper into the house, searching the main floor to see if she could spot Stiles. The crowd was dense with familiar and unfamiliar faces, but none of them were who she was looking for. After a few minutes of searching the bottom floor with no luck, Malia climbed the stairs to see if she could find Stiles elsewhere. There was a line in front of the bathroom and a couple sloppily making out against a wall, but no Stiles. Down the hall, she saw a door cracked and found her feet moving in its direction. There was no light to suggest anyone was inside, but her feet seemed intent on getting there. It was a strange pull, a tugging sensation at her navel that kept her moving.

In this area of the house, everything seemed strangely muted, leaving her cut off from the party below. She pushed through the door, listening to the eerie creak as it opened, and stepped inside to find the room empty. Moonlight cast a blue glow through the open curtains of the window, stretching across the floor. Malia walked toward it, reaching a hand out to let moonbeams play across her palm and up her arm. The noise from downstairs had dulled to a distant buzz.

"What are you?"

Malia jumped at the unexpected voice. She whirled around to see—

Derek Hale.

He stepped forward, shadows dripping off his figure to reveal the suspicious narrowing of his eyes and the aggressive frown she remembered all too well from the woods.

It would be a lie to say Malia didn't feel intimidated; it was just the two of them in an empty room, inside a house where the music was so loud no one could hear her scream, and he hadn't exactly shown a great disposition thus far. Still, she raised her chin and folded her arms defiantly. "Aren't you a little old for a high school party?"

He ignored her question and stepped closer, his gaze bouncing across her face. "You don't even know."

Malia felt a cold shudder run down her back and took a step away from him. "What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

He didn't answer, instead letting out a huff through his nose. "You'll figure it out."

"Yeah, I think you've had a little too much to drink. You want me to call you a cab or something?" She moved around him, making her way to the door, but kept her eyes on him as she went. It was strange. That feeling she got when she first met him in the woods was there, but she still couldn't pinpoint what it was. It was like… a memory, just out of reach.

Before she could yank the door open and flee, his hand was on her elbow, drawing her back. The simplicity of his strength was jarring; the effortless way in which he pulled her forward, until she just was inches from him, made her bones feel like liquid. The sudden awareness of a power dynamic that was quite obviously not in her favor made her knees shake and her panic-struck heart climb into her throat.

Derek stared down at her, his brow furrowed. "You shouldn't be here. It's not safe."

A blaring red alarm was going off in her head. When his fingers loosened, she yanked away from him, stumbling backwards. "Next time, skip the keg. You clearly can't hold your liquor." With that, she left, quickly making her way downstairs. Her nerves felt frayed, pulse still a little too quick. She kept looking back, as if he was just going to appear, menacing and strange. Only, he wasn't coming after her, which oddly made her feel even more freaked out.

And then a body collided with her, kicking her panic up another notch. But when she looked up, she was surprised and relieved to find Scott. His skin was damp with sweat and his breathing was more of a wheeze than anything. "Scott?" She caught him as he fell forward. "What happened?"

"I… I don't…" He looked up at her, his eyes glazed and his expression twisted in pain. "Something's wrong."

"Okay." She stared at him searchingly and then pulled one of his arms around her shoulder to help him stand. "Come on. I'll take you home."

He nodded, leaning into her as they shuffled out the front door. They moved down the driveway to where his mom's car was parked, with Malia carrying much of his weight as his whole body seemed to fold in on itself. She got him settled in the backseat while she raced around to the front, taking the keys from his outstretched and shaking hand. Maybe it was worry for Scott or the fear she still felt curdling her stomach around her encounter with Derek, but when she pulled away from Lydia's house, the tires squealed.

The drive to Scott's seemed to fly by in a flash of street lamps. When the radio attempted to interrupt, she switched it off, avoiding sensory overload. It was just him and her; his pained groaning and heavy breathing echoed through the car as he twisted and turned in the backseat. Malia split her attention between the road ahead and the mirror, checking on him frequently.

"You think it's something you ate?" This didn't look like food poisoning. While a part of her couldn't help but think of Stiles' ominous warnings, another part of her wanted— _needed_ — it to be something much simpler. "What'd you drink while you were there? Anything?"

"No. I- I was too nervous. I didn't eat anything. I just got there. We were just… _dancing_ …" He was panting, rubbing an arm over his face to wipe away the sheen of sweat that had collected.

"Okay, we're almost at your house." Malia's hands squeezed the steering wheel tightly, a feeling of absolute helplessness flooding her. There was nothing she could do. No way to help him through the pain. Her foot pressed down a little harder on the gas, enough that when she finally pulled into his house, the car skidded at the abrupt stop.

She helped him out of the back, hooking an arm around his waist to keep him upright and steady, wondering if maybe she should've taken him to the hospital instead.

"No. No hospital."

Malia hadn't realized she'd said anything out loud. Regardless, she still frowned at him. "This is a dumb idea. What if it's something serious? Your mom is a _nurse_. Shouldn't you advocate for medical attention?"

He cried out, wrapping an arm around his ribs. "I just… I can't breathe…"

"Yet another reason to see a doctor!"

Still, with a huff of a sigh, she helped him inside and up the stairs. He tripped over his feet a few times, toppling her sideways in the process. Her hip banged into the railing, but she merely readjusted and kept going. Between using the banister and the wall as leverage, she eventually got him up the stairs and into his room. Immediately, Scott started stripping off his shirt and kicking off his shoes. He staggered into his bathroom and turned on the shower, a flood of cold water splashing against the bottom of the tub. Climbing inside, he sat, crouched, with his arms hooked around his knees. Water poured down on top of him, drenching him in seconds.

Malia dug around in his desk, desperately searching for his inhaler. "Come on, come on, come on…" She shoved books and paper and pens around, pulling open every drawer. When she finally found it, she made a victorious noise of relief, and then joined him in the bathroom. Kneeling next to the tub, she gave the inhaler a shake and handed it to him. "Here."

Scott took it, sucking in a few puffs before burying his face against his knees once more. He rocked forward, burying his fingers in his hair, and groaned. "It h-hurts."

Malia watched, conflicted. She leaned closer, feeling the water soak the top of her head and her shoulder. Reaching out, she ran a hand down his back, just like she used to do for Kylie when she was little and had the flu. A sweeping, circular motion, over and over.

After her mom and her sister died in a freak car accident, Malia had spent some time in therapy. It was no secret that she wasn't dealing with her grief, but there were other things too, namely that she had trouble letting her dad get into vehicles. Every time she saw him pull away in his truck, her lungs seized up and she was stuck in a spiral of anxiety, fearing the moment a cop would show up to tell her she'd lost her dad, too. She had fewer panic attacks these days, but her therapist had shown her a few ways to deal with them when they did crop up. The first was the song— Fleetwood Mac's _Rhiannon_. For her, it usually worked. But there was another technique that her therapist had shown her; one she thought might work a little better for Scott.

"Just breathe, Scott. Focus on that."

He turned his head and stared out at her from beneath wet hanks of hair. He took deep breaths, sucking in gulps of air, and let them out shakily.

"Slow it down." She reached under his arm and pressed a hand to his chest. "Feel your lungs fill up as much as they can take. Hold your breath for a few seconds, then let it out, okay?"

Nodding, he drew a breath, held it for one beat and another, and then let it slowly.

"Again."

Malia did it along with him, giving him a visual to follow along with.

They kept it up for three deep breaths and she could see that he was at least starting to calm down. His eyes were at half-mast and his body seemed to be loosening up, no longer a ball of tension.

But then his vision dropped and his brow furrowed. "What are you wearing?"

"What?" Taken off guard, she looked down, catching sight of her pleated top, now partly soaked through from the storm of water battering down on them both. "Clothes."

"Barely!"

" _Hey!_ You wanna rethink that?"

He groaned, his shoulders hunching. "Stiles said I had to stay calm. Nothing that raises my pulse."

"And that's my fault?" She scowled. "I'm trying to help you here."

He buried his face against his hands. "Can you change? _Please?_ "

"I paid good money for these clothes. And I think I look pretty good."

"Malia …" he whined.

Before she could reprimand him anymore, he started shaking, his whole body vibrating as he hyperventilated. He slammed a hand down against the side of the tub and then lifted it, turning both of his hands over to stare at the palms.

Malia stared in shock as slowly, his nails transformed into— _claws?_

"Scott…" Her voice went quiet with disbelief.

He turned to look at her, his face awash in fear. "What's happening to me?"

She shook her head, but then she spotted something. Reaching forward, she rubbed her thumb against his lower lip, moving it out of the way to touch the sharpened edge of a _fang_.

Seeing her expression, he reached up. "What?" He felt around his teeth, finding four had elongated. "Li- _aaa!_ "

"I…" She shrugged her shoulders high. "I think Stiles was right. That wolf that bit you, it wasn't a normal wolf. And now…"

"Now, what? I- I'm changing? I'm turning into a wolf?"

"I don't know!" Her eyes widened. "Maybe it's just temporary. Maybe it only happens on a full moon. You just… you have to ride it out, that's all."

"Ride it out?" His voice rose an octave. "I have _fangs_ and _claws!_ "

"I don't know what you want me to say! I have no experience with this. I—" She paused, suddenly struck with an idea. She wasn't sure how good it was, but it felt like a clue to the bizarre mess this last week had been. "But, we might know someone who does."

"What?" His brow furrowed. " _Who?_ "

"I ran into Derek Hale tonight. You know, really creepy loner we met out in the woods the night after you were bit?" She nodded. "He was at the party."

"You saw him? I… I saw him, too."

"He was in a bedroom on the second floor—"

His brow furrowed. "What were you doing in a bedroom?"

"That's not the point." She waved a dismissive hand. "He was so weird. He confronted me, asked me what I was or something, like I wasn't human. But, I think he was confused. I think he meant _you_. Because you were bit."

Scott's eyes widened. "Like maybe _he_ bit me!"

"If he knows something about what's going on, then maybe he knows how to reverse it. Or at least how to make it hurt less."

Scott stared at her a long beat. "Wait, he confronted you?"

She blinked, thrown off by the question. "I— Yeah. He was being all lurky, standing in the shadows. I got a weird vibe so I tried to leave, but he grabbed my arm and—"

"He _grabbed_ you?" His vision shone a brilliant gold.

Malia's mouth fell open. "Scott… Your eyes."

His chest started heaving and falling rapidly. "Did he hurt you?"

"No. He just— He was just being weird and… aggressive. I don't know." She shook her head. "Scott, your eyes are a different color."

"What?"

A sudden banging on Scott's bedroom door startled them.

" _Scott?_ " Stiles' voice rang out.

Malia breathed a sigh of relief, but Scott scrambled out of the bathtub, dripping water everywhere as he rushed into his room, blockading the door with his body.

She followed after him, her brow furrowed. "What are you doing? He can help!"

" _No!_ " Scott stared at her, panting desperately. "Neither of you should be here. Something's wrong with me. I could _hurt_ you."

"You haven't hurt me so far." She crossed her arms. "Let Stiles in. We can figure this out together."

"Stiles needs to find Allison. If you're right, then Derek's dangerous. I don't want her to get hurt."

"Wait, Derek?" Stiles kicked the door irritably. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Derek Hale was at the party; he confronted Malia. Something about not being human. We think he's the one that bit me."

"Or just someone who knows a lot about whatever's going on," Malia added.

"Either way!" Scott insisted. "Stiles, you need to go back to the party and make sure Allison gets home."

"Uh, small hiccup in that plan… She already went home. She, uh, caught a ride, actually… With Derek."

Malia felt a tug at her chest; worry flooding her. She and Allison might not be extremely close, but there was no way she wanted her to get hurt. Still, she couldn't help but feel like Scott's reasoning was a little compromised They needed to make a plan, not just run head first into things and hope for the best. "Scott…"

Eerie yellow eyes focused in on her. "I have to do something."

"Like _what?_ You don't even know what's happening to you. Two minutes ago, you could barely stand up."

"I'm standing now!"

Malia frowned and stepped toward him.

Scott leaned back, pressed flat against the door. "Stop! I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." Malia reached for him, wrapping her hands around his wrists, and found his pulse jackhammering beneath her finders. "I care about Allison, too. But chasing after her like this could do more damage than good…" She stared at him searchingly. "You're not thinking straight."

"I…" His breathing increased, chest heaving. "I just need…"

"You remember what I showed you?" She pulled on him, leading him close until they were front to front. "Deep inhale, hold it, slow exhale."

He followed her instructions, his forehead falling to meet hers. His skin was still wet from the shower and his warm breath skittered against her face as he exhaled.

"Again," she whispered.

Eyes closed, he sucked in air, his chest expanding as he did.

She watched him, her own breath a little shaky. "Count to three in your head…" She stroked her fingers along his wrists. "Then let go."

His eyes opened as he breathed out, meeting hers in the process. It was cheesy and dopey, but she thought she could count every single one of his eyelashes. Her heart jumped in her chest, ballooning enough that it felt like it might escape her body and float up to the ceiling.

Scott stared at her, his eyes slowly returning to that warm, familiar brown.

Her mouth turned up, slow and relieved. For a moment, she really thought they could do this— _fight_ this— whatever it was.

And then Stiles' voice interrupted— "Scott, I'm calling and she's not answering. Do I call my dad? He can send a car over to check on her. Scott?"

Malia hardly had a chance to brace for it before the calm Scott that had once been standing in front of her was suddenly gone, leaping out the window of his bedroom and off the porch roof to land in a puddle below.

Malia followed after him, leaning out the window and watching as he reared his head back and let out an ominous howl. She felt it down to her toes; a vibration that shook her whole body. And then he was off; racing into the night, half-dressed and entirely out of control.

"Shit," she muttered before lurching back to the door, swinging it open, and shaking her head at Stiles. "We need to find him."

His brow furrowed. "Why are you soaking wet?"

" _Stiles!_ " She glared impatiently.

"All right, okay." He nodded rapidly. "Two guesses where he's going."

With a sigh, she followed him downstairs and out to the jeep.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

By the time they reached Allison's house, Malia was expecting a small murder scene in the front yard. The entire drive over, Stiles talked about everything he'd read about werewolves and their bloodlust this time of the month. How they couldn't control their impulses and anybody could be a victim. But as they pulled to an unsteady stop in the driveway, the house looked quiet and undisturbed.

"Let me do the talking." Unclipping her seatbelt, Malia hopped out and took a deep breath.

Stiles circled around the jeep to stand next to her. "You think I can't handle this?"

"I think you're freaking out and the last thing we need is for her parents to think something's wrong."

"What if something _is_ wrong?"

"Then we'll figure it out." She marched up the driveway. "For all we know, Allison's fine."

"You think Scott's wrong?"

"I think Scott just turned into a werewolf in his bathtub after his first ever date." She rolled her eyes. "I don't want to jump to conclusions and I really don't want Allison's parents to think Scott is some crazy person. Which is exactly what they'll think if we tell them what happened tonight."

Stiles floundered for a counterpoint, but it was too late. She was already knocking on the door and waiting for someone to answer.

When the door swung open, a tall, severe looking woman stared back at her from icy blue eyes, an eyebrow raised. "Yes?"

"Hi, Mrs. Argent." Malia attempted a friendly smile. "Is Allison home? I'm Malia, a friend of hers from school."

Mrs. Argent stared at her a beat longer before casting a curious and dismissive eye in a jittery Stiles' direction. Finally, she stepped back and called out, "Allison… It's for you."

Malia's heart leapt as Allison stepped into view at the top of the stairs overlooking the foyer.

"Malia?" A curious smile upturned Allison's lips. "Hey…"

"Hey!" Malia let out a sigh of relief. "Sorry to bother you so late. Things were just weird and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Allison made her way down the stairs, nodding at her mom in thanks. As Mrs. Argent left, Allison took her place in front of the door. "Yeah, definitely weird. Is Scott okay? He left so suddenly…"

"He was sick," Malia offered quickly. "Really sick. And totally embarrassed. He didn't want you to see him like, throw up in the bushes or anything."

"Oh." Her brows hiked. "Well, is he going to be okay?"

"Yeah, it's just, uh, a flu. He should be fine by Monday." She elbows Stiles beside her. "Right?"

"Huh?" Stiles looked up from where he was chewing on the edge of his thumbnail. "Oh, yeah. Super sick. Blowing chunks just _everywhere_. But it's fine, just, uh, give him a couple days and this too shall pass…" He laughed awkwardly.

Malia stared at him like he was an idiot before shaking her head and looking back at Allison. "Anyway, like I said. Just wanted to make sure you got home all right."

"It's fine." She smiled. "Scott's friend Derek gave me a ride home."

"Glad to hear it. We were a little worried we basically stranded you at the party." Malia rocked back on her heels. "Okay, well, we'll let you get back to your Friday night and… see you Monday. Probably."

"Sure." Allison stared at them, somewhat confused, but reached for the door to close it. "Have a good weekend."

"Yeah, you, too."

"Bye," Stiles added.

As the door closed, Malia turned on Stiles. "Now what?"

"I don't know. We can drive around and try to spot him, I guess."

Nodding, Malia turned on her heel and, together, they hurried back to the jeep. All the while hoping that Scott didn't end up hurting anybody, or getting hurt himself.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

It was a long night. Malia abandoned her boots on the floor of Stiles' jeep as they drove across seemingly every square inch of Beacon Hills, looking for any sign of Scott. They made frequent detours through Allison's neighborhood to see if they might spot him, but there was no such luck. It was morning, the birds chirping and the sun glinting on the horizon, when they finally saw a familiar figure moving down the road ahead. They should have guessed he'd be closer to the preserve.

"Malia…" Stiles shook her shoulder. "Is that him?"

Resting her head on her hand, her arm braced against the window, Malia turned sleepy eyes out the front window and let out a sigh of relief. "That's him."

Stiles put the jeep into park and shoved his door open.

Malia was already out, running barefoot across the cold, wet pavement, until she connected with Scott. Nearly bowling him over in an effort to make sure he was real and solid and okay, she hugged him tight. He had one arm pinned to his stomach, but the other wrapped around her, his fingers dug into her back. "You're okay," she breathed. "We've been looking everywhere…"

"I was in the woods. I got lost…" He rested his chin on her shoulder. "I was going to look for Allison when I spotted her sweater hanging from this branch, but it was a trick."

Stiles stood next to them, hands on his hips. "What kind of trick?"

"It was Derek. He was trying to lure me out."

"What?" Stiles frowned. "Why? What'd be want?"

"I think… he was trying to help." Scott's brow wrinkled. "I don't know. It was weird. But, he said he was protecting Allison… _From me_."

Letting him go, Malia took a step back, her hand lingering on his shoulder. "What happened?"

"I… I lost it. I couldn't think straight and it was like everything was tinted red. I was just— _angry_. But then Derek was there and we were fighting and I wanted answers. Only, he wasn't the only one."

Stiles perked up, curiosity peaked. "There were other werewolves?"

"No." Scott grimaced. "It was hunters."

"Uh…" Stiles shook his head. "Not familiar."

"Derek said they've been hunting werewolves for centuries. They _kill_ them!"

Malia looked down at his arm, dried blood marring his skin. "They hurt you."

"One of them shot me with an arrow… And I think they would've done worse, but Derek stopped them."

"So, is he one of the good guys then?"

"No… Maybe… I don't know. But I do know that he bit me and he turned me into this- this _thing_. He said it was a gift. But I don't _want_ it."

Malia sighed and then pulled at Scott's shoulder, drawing him against her side. "Come on. Let's go home."

Leaning into her, he hooked his good arm around her waist. "That sounds good."

They walked up the road to the jeep and hopped inside with Malia in the back and Scott slumping down in the passenger seat. An eager— and entirely too energetic— Stiles climbed into the driver's seat and pulled ahead.

"You guys were out all night?"

"Yeah, well." Malia shrugged. "Mauling the locals would be pretty hard to scrub from your school record."

Stiles snorted, but said, sincerely, "Of _course_ we were out here all night. You think we'd leave you behind?"

"I'm a literal werewolf." Scott looked between them, his eyes wide. "Yeah, I think that warrants abandonment."

"Hardly." Stiles scoffed. "If anything, this just makes us closer."

Unconvinced, Scott raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"Dude, you're a supernatural creature. You're going to need us here to help you through it. And also, you're a frickin' _werewolf!_ How cool is that?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "What he's trying to say is that a little extra fur and an overbite aren't going to send us running for the hills." She patted Scott's shoulder gently. "You're our friend. And whatever this is, we'll help you with it. If that means finding some kind of cure or just helping you control your weird werewolf impulses, so be it."

Scott turned in his seat to smile back at her. "Thank you."

"Yeah, well, you'd do it for me." She leaned back in her seat. "And if Allison asks, you've had the flu all weekend. According to Stiles, you've been puking your guts out, so…"

Scott groaned. "You told her I was throwing up?"

"I think the words he used were 'blowing chunks everywhere.'"

"I panicked!" Stiles defended. "Anyway, I went there thinking she'd been taken hostage or like, mauled by a wolf. So, excuse me if I was a little off my game."

"Did she believe you at least?" Scott hoped.

"Yeah, totally," Malia reassured. "Just make sure you apologize."

"Or," Stiles said, "you know, you could just… tell her the truth and revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you're a frickin' werewolf!"

Scott stared at him blandly.

"Okay, bad idea. Hey, Malia was right; we'll get through this." He swiped at Scott's arm. "Come on, if I have to, I'll chain you up on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once. I could do it."

Laughing under his breath, Scott shook his head.

Stiles grinned in return.

And Malia slunk down in her seat, happy that, as much as things had clearly changed, some things never would.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

When they reached Scott's house, exhaustion had swamped everybody. They made their way inside and quickly found themselves passing out on the nearest furniture. Stiles fell asleep in an arm chair while Malia took over the loveseat and Scott sprawled out on the sofa.

She was half-asleep, her eyes closed as the weight of her worry was relieved and any excess adrenaline she had deserted her entirely.

"Lia…?" Scott asked, his voice quiet.

She hummed.

"Do you think…?"

With what little energy she had left, Malia cracked her eyes open and turned her head to see him. He was on his back, arm tucked behind his head, and one of Stiles' shirts wrapped around him. "What?"

He looked at her, his expression taut with uncertainty. "What if this thing… this bite… it changes who I am?"

She peered at him a long moment; frown marring his lips and the dips of worry flaring around his eyes. "You left the party as soon as you realized something was wrong. Because you didn't want to hurt anybody. And the only reason you left here was because you wanted to make sure Allison was safe… I don't care what bit you. Werewolf, normal wolf, rabid squirrel… You're exactly who you've always been, Scott. A good person. Nothing and no one can take that from you."

He gazed back at her, a slow smile forming. "Thanks."

She nodded. "Anytime."

"You're good at that."

Her brows hiked. "At what?"

"Just… grounding me. You know?"

She hummed. She wasn't sure anybody would consider that an apt description of Malia Tate. Aloof, aggressive, dismissive, sure. But not their grounding force. Strangely uncomfortable with the idea, she said, "Get some sleep."

His smile widened a bit, but he listened, letting his eyes close and his chin dip.

Malia, on the other hand, turned her gaze to the ceiling. A few days ago, she was telling herself to keep her distance. To disconnect from the feelings she was having for him. Werewolf or not, she wondered if that was ever a real possibility. Scott was her best friend. There was no way she could completely walk away from him. But, as much as she cared for him and as much as he was going to need her and Stiles to figure all of this out, she knew she had to stay practical. Scott liked Allison. Not her. And it would only add another unnecessary level of complicated to this whole mess for her to add her feelings to the mix, too.

With that thought, Malia let her eyes close and willed herself to sleep.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Considering Malia spent much of Saturday sleeping, half her weekend felt like it had been wasted. On Sunday, she made her way over to the McCall house, but not to see Scott. Sunday was his and Stiles' official 'play video games until their hands cramped' day. So, she wasn't surprised to find the house quiet and mostly empty.

When Malia was eight, her mom taught her how to make pancakes. It was a step-by-step process that resulted in them both wearing a lot of flour. Not to mention the added crunch of tiny egg shells in their food. But, over time, she got better at it. Which was why she had no problem getting out the skillet and whipping up a batch of pancake batter. There were three, perfectly circular pancakes cooking away when a tired Melissa wandered downstairs, her jaw cracking with a yawn. Her hair was a little lopsided, mussed from sleep, and her eyes were only half open, but she smiled at Malia as she made her way to the coffee machine, where a pot was already brewed. Pouring herself a large mug, she took a seat at the dining room table and watched as Malia went about setting the table with cutlery, butter, and syrup.

"Should I ask what I did to deserve this or just appreciate the gesture?" Melissa wondered.

"Local nurses deserve more love, don't they?" Malia flipped each of the pancakes and then waved the spatula around absently. "But this might be a bribe. A small one. Tiny, even."

Melissa's mouth hitched up, amused. "What kind of a bribe?"

"Of the advice variety." Her nose wrinkled. "On, you know… feelings."

Stifling a laugh, Melissa took a long sip of her coffee and nodded. "Not sure I needed pancakes for that, but I won't say no now…"

"Scott's at Stiles', right?"

"Think so. His door was open and I didn't see him sleeping." Melissa stared at Malia searchingly. "Is this advice about one of them?"

Malia paused. "So, let's say that I started having feelings for someone, right?"

"Okay."

"But I didn't want to have feelings for them…"

Melissa winced. "Ah. One of those."

"Yeah." Malia's expression turned grumpy. "It's just… dumb. I wish it could all go away. It's like this weird pressure on my chest and this floaty feeling in my stomach, and I hate it."

With a hum, Melissa watched her curiously. "Do you hate it or do you hate that you don't know what to do with it?"

"Is there a difference?"

"Maybe it's not the feelings, just a lack of control that bothers us. You can't control what you feel— sometimes, you just have to wait it out and it goes away on its own. _But_ , you can control who knows and what you do about them."

Malia nodded slowly. "So, I can just leave a peaceful life of denial is what you're saying."

With a slow, amused grin, Melissa said, "Technically, yes. But is that really going to make you happier?"

"I don't know." Malia scuffed her toes against the floor. "It's just inconvenient."

"Have you been feeling this for a while or is it new?"

Malia frowned. "A while, I think. It kind of feels like it's been building, you know? Like, back when I first noticed it, it was just this tiny thing. Like… the size of a marble, and it'd sit in the pit of my stomach. And then he'd do something or he'd smile or he'd make _me_ smile, and that stupid little marble just kept growing. And now it's the size of a basketball and I'd like to have it surgically removed."

A huff of a laugh left her. "Yeah, I know how that feels."

"What did you do?" Malia took the pancakes off the skillet and slid them on a plate that she carried around to drop in front of Melissa before taking a seat next to her at the table.

"Well, I married him, for one." Melissa slathered butter across her pancakes and uncapped the syrup. "There were other boys and a couple girls that I liked over the years. But, it was different with Raf."

"How? Why?"

"There was just…" Melissa took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "There was a friendship there. A foundation that we'd built together. It made everything simultaneously easier and harder. At first, you don't want to cross that line because you're worried about what it'll do and how it'll change things. But then, you wonder if maybe it's worth it. And sometimes it is. Sometimes it's the best thing to happen to you. Sometimes it just starts that way and it ends later. Other times you realize it's a mistake and you regret it."

"So, there's no guarantee either way." Malia frowned. "That sucks!"

Melissa nodded. "Yeah, it does."

Sighing, she slumped back against her chair. "Anyway, what I feel for him is totally different to what he feels for me."

Humming, Melissa cut off a bite of her pancakes. "What makes you say that?"

"Because. I know him. I know how he looks when he likes someone. That's not how he looks at me. And…" _And Allison_. "I mean, I don't hold it against him or anything. It's like I said, I just want to stop _feeling_ this way. Because…" _It hurts. And I'm scared that one day he's going to figure it out and he's going to pity me or hate me or just feel completely weird and… I don't know what I'd do without him._ "It would just be easier if I could get over him."

"We've all felt that way before." Melissa smiled at her gently. "Unfortunately, it's like I said. Sometimes, you just have to ride those feelings out. And, if you think it'll help, you can always take some time away from him. I'm not saying end the friendship, but I am saying that it's okay to look out for yourself. And if you think it'll only end up hurting you more, it's okay to step back and look after yourself first."

Malia nodded, even though she wasn't sure she could do that. Scott was dealing with this huge transformation right now and he'd need both of his best friends to help him get through it. Her feelings be damned. But, she appreciated the sentiment and the support.

"Thanks." Malia stood from her seat then and dragged her denim jacket on. "I should get home. Shiloh's probably bored out of her mind and I have some homework I need to work on."

"Okay. Thank you for breakfast, sweetie."

"Sure. Thanks for the advice." She bent to pop a kiss on Melissa's cheek before making her way through the living room toward the door.

"Hey, Malia…" Melissa called after her.

"Yeah?" She turned back to face her curiously.

"He would be lucky to have you… _Whoever_ he is."

Malia lifted her chin, a faint smile pulling at her mouth. Unable to say how much she appreciated the sentiment, she merely nodded, and then turned and walked out the door. Tucking her hands in the pockets of her jacket, she made her way down the porch and started her trek home, repeating all of what Melissa had told her as she went.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

It was after dinner when Malia decided to go for a run. Pulling on a sports bra and her favorite running clothes, she thumbed through her iPod for her high-energy playlist. Beacon Hills preserve had a lot of trails, some more arduous than others, and Malia always liked to challenge herself. Making sure her music was loud and fast helped keep her momentum, feet slapping against the paved walkway as she moved. It didn't occur to her until she was nearly halfway through her run that there had been a possibly-murderous werewolf in these same woods exactly one week ago. She said 'possibly' because as likely as it was that the dead and severed body of that woman was in fact a victim of the same werewolf, there was no proof of that yet. Not being an expert on the subject herself, she could only speculate. Scott was, apparently, a werewolf now and his instincts were to protect others. But, that was one occasion. What if, in the full moons to come, those urges changed, or he was incapable of controlling them?

Sweaty and out of breath, Malia came to a stop at the edge of a cliff. It was sectioned off with overlapping logs of wood to ward joggers from getting too close, but she walked right up to them until her knees brushed against the edges to stare down at the town below. Slowly, street lamps were coming on and people were trading in the natural light of the sinking sun. Hands on her hips, she stretched her back and plucked one headphone out of her ear. Her own breathing was all she could hear at first, a little too heavy and uneven. Behind that, she could hear the forest coming alive; crickets and birds and rustling bushes.

Taking a deep breath, she let the cool air fan over her warm face and reached up to make sure her ponytail was secure. Just as she was about to put her headphone back in and get back to her run, she felt it. A skittering sensation climbed up her back; a shock of awareness that told her she was not alone. Every muscle in her body tensed, though she had no idea what she was going to do. Every memory she had of the self-defence classes her dad put her in seemed to run through her mind. And then—

"I'm not going to attack you."

Malia turned slowly, eyeing the figure standing just ten feet away. Derek Hale had his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, seeming to affect a nonchalant disposition. She raised an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to comfort me…?"

"Sort of." He drew his hands from his pockets in a show of innocence, but her eyes only narrowed.

"This weird, lurky, appear from the shadows shtick is seriously wearing thin…"

His mouth quirked faintly or maybe that was a trick of the dying light, since he didn't seem like the type of guy that frequently interacted with humor. "I'll keep that in mind."

Crossing her arms, she sighed. "Well, what ominous message did you feel like sending this time? I already know you're a werewolf. Scott told me he ran into you in the woods the other night."

Derek's nostrils flared and his mouth flatlined. "Until Scott is trained, he's dangerous. To you, his family, and anyone around him."

Malia shrugged. "Then we'll train him."

"You don't know _how_. And there's a lot more to this situation than any of you know."

"Then maybe try being a little more transparent about what's happening." She took a step toward him, irritated. "Scott was bitten by a werewolf. He thinks it was you. Since you're only one around and all you've done is keep secrets and demand we just listen to your creepy double-speak, you're not starting off on the best foot."

Derek ground his teeth and cast a look off to the side. "I don't really feel like explaining myself to The Three Musketeers."

"Oh, well as long as our werewolf crisis isn't _inconveniencing_ you…" With a scoff, she walked past him.

"You need to tell Scott that I can help him." Derek pivoted, his gaze following her retreating form. "Unless you _want_ him to hurt someone."

"Until you feel like cracking open that vault on your werewolf knowledge, I think we'll handle Scott on our own, thanks." She picked up her dangling headphone and wiggled her fingers at him in farewell.

"You have no idea what you're doing!" he called after her.

"I'm a quick study." With that, she put in her earbud and started making her way down the path. But as much as she wanted to drown out the information she'd just gathered, she couldn't.

She might not know Derek Hale at all, but his words still left a bitter taste in her mouth. The truth was, the only knowledge she or Stiles had about werewolves was whatever they could pull off the internet, which was no doubt chock full of fallacies and folklore. But she also wasn't about to be a puppet for some mysterious stranger that said he had all the answers to what ailed them. Until he started getting honest about his motives, they would keep the issue between the three of them.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Come Monday, Malia found herself sitting on the benches overlooking the lacrosse field, eating her lunch and reading a book while Scott and Stiles practiced together. Given Scott's recent upgrade in the reflex department, it was more like Stiles attempting and failing to score while Scott showed off.

Panting, Stiles stood with a hand on his hip, leaning against the lacrosse stick he had dug into earth as a pillar of support. "Okay… Think I'm good… Still got a whole scrimmage later to show how much I suck."

Malia snorted and flipped a page in her book.

"Come on, just a few more!" Scott encouraged.

"For what? So, you can block those, too?"

Scott grinned. "I'm getting good, right?"

"You were already good," Malia called out.

"Hey!" Stiles cried. "Where's _my_ support? Huh? Where's the encouragement for _Stiles?_ "

"I told you to kick ass in the jeep this morning." She plucked a grape from her lunch and popped it in her mouth, crunching it between her teeth as she asked, "What else do you want from me?"

Stiles stared at her a beat and then shrugged. "All right, that's true."

"I didn't tell you to _get_ your ass kicked, though. You did that all on your own."

Sighing, he trudged toward her, collapsing dramatically on the ground at her feet. Sweaty and out of breath, he asked her, "On a scale of 1 to 10, what do you think my chances are?"

Malia extended her leg to gently knock the end of her foot against his ribs. "Slim. But, that means if you do make it, it'll feel even better."

He pursed his lips at her, unamused. "You could try being more uplifting, you know?"

"I prefer the safety of being practical." She shrugged and then tossed him a grape, snorting when it bounced off his cheek and landed in the grass. "Anyway, there's always the chance someone will get injured on the field and you can replace them for a game."

Eating the grape anyway, Stiles nodded. "That's true."

"Something to look forward to then."

Scott made his way over, pulling off his gear as he went. "Are you coming to the scrimmage today?" he wondered, raising an eyebrow at Malia.

"Probably." She leaned back on the benches and put her book aside, a page folded to mark her place. "Allison and I were going to test out our rusty gymnastic skills sometime this week."

"Would that involve some kind of leotard or…?" Stiles wondered, looking interested.

Malia threw a carrot stick at his face.

"Ow!" He covered his eye and glared at her with the other, uninjured one. "I was just asking!"

"You haven't gone to the gym in _years_ …" Scott sat next to her, straddling the bench and resting his hands on his legs. "You said it reminded you too much of Kylie."

Malia felt a tug in her chest and let out a sigh. "It did. It probably still does…" She shifted in her seat to see him better. "But, I used to love it. And I was pretty good. So, when Allison said she was into it, it just kind of slipped out that I was, too. Next thing I know, we're making vague plans to see if we were still any good."

Scott reached for her, rubbing a hand down her arm gently. "You know there's no pressure, right? I'm sure Allison would understand."

"Yeah, she probably would. But, maybe this is good for me. I should push my boundaries a little. That's about the gist of what Danny said, anyway."

"Danny?"

"Yeah, we were talking last Friday and he encouraged me to start getting out there. Make more friends, go to parties… not scare away any boy mildly interested in me."

Scott stared at her a beat. "Oh."

"Yeah." She rolled her eyes. "I don't know how much boundary-pushing I really got out of Friday. I felt like I was only there ten minutes before things went sideways."

"There's always other parties," Stiles said. "And if you've got Danny on your side, you're pretty much invited to all of them."

"Yeah. We'll see." She shrugged. "Anyway, I Googled my old gym and it's still there. They've got a two-hour block where pretty much anyone can come in and give things a try, so…"

Scott nodded. "That's great. I, uh, I'm glad you're getting along."

"She's really nice." Malia half-smiled.

"Yeah, she is."

The bell rang shrilly in the background then, letting them know lunch was over.

"Shit." Scott hopped up, looking panicked. "I wanted to shower before class…" He started backing away from them. "I'll see you guys after!" To Malia he said, "Come to scrimmage! Please? For support!"

As he raced off, she called after him, "You already made first line!"

But Scott merely waved a hand back, continuing to run toward the school.

Standing from the benches, she put the last of her lunch away and hooked her bag over her shoulder. "What about you? Just content to stink the rest of the day?"

"I prefer to think my natural pheromones might be a good thing." Stiles dragged himself up from the grass with a groan.

Malia took a sniff of him and shook her head. "They're not." With that, she headed across the field toward the school.

"Always a pleasure to be around, Malia…"

She smirked. "I know."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Danny took a seat across from her in the library and got straight to the point. "So, are we going to talk about how you bailed on the party after like, ten minutes?"

Malia grimaced. "Aren't you supposed to be prepping me for a quiz?"

"It can wait." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "You managed to show up, but you took off with McCall before the party even got started."

"It seemed pretty 'started' when I got there…"

"Barely." He rolled his eyes. "Give it another hour before the lightweights pass out."

Malia tapped her pencil against her textbook. "I would've stayed longer, probably, but Scott got sick."

Danny raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And it's your job to nurse him back to health?"

"No, but…" She frowned. "We're friends. We look out for each other."

"Look, McCall seems like a nice guy. But at some point, you're going to have to ask yourself if he's worth sacrificing your social life."

Malia's face screwed up irritably. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that anybody with eyes can see you're pining over him. And he's pining over the new girl. _So_ , either you move on or you get stuck as the unrequited third of a love triangle."

Malia's gaze fell, her brow furrowed. "And partying is supposed to fix that?"

"No. But it opens doors, Tate. If you're willing to see what might be behind them, anyway." With that, he pushed a few papers toward her. "Now, let's get you studied up for this quiz."

Malia nodded, but her mind had drifted elsewhere.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After school, Malia found herself once again sitting on the benches overlooking the lacrosse team. Not for long, however, as a distracted Scott stepped up to run a drill against Jackson and quickly had his ass handed to him. After what Coach Finstock considered his own version of a 'pep-talk' occurred, Scott tried again, this time knocking Jackson off his feet before he too fell to his knees. Given the way Stiles hurried to him, crouching by his side only to shuffle him off the field while the rest of the team worriedly grouped around Jackson, Malia quickly realized it must be another werewolf issue. As they jogged toward the school, Malia climbed off the bleachers to follow, only to get sidetracked as she found Derek Hale standing near the benches, as broody and mysterious as ever, pinning her with a stare and hiked eyebrows that just _screamed_ 'told you so.'

Rolling her eyes, she walked over to him. "Lurking at high schools now, too? If you're not careful, somebody's going to put you on a registry somewhere."

His mouth ticked up faintly. "You know, he's probably tearing your skinny friend to pieces right now."

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't know Scott."

"Maybe not, but I know werewolves."

Malia stared at him a beat, then looked to the school. Taking a deep breath, she broke out into a jog that soon turned into a run. Her heart hammered in her chest. Worry for Stiles made her pulse race and her stomach twist. ' _Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay_ ,' was on repeat in her head.

Considering the last time Scott started shifting, he'd hopped in a cold shower, she made her way toward the locker room, only to hear banging from inside. Just as she was about to enter, she heard a loud rushing noise, and caught a stumbling Stiles as he backed out of the swinging door, a fire extinguisher clutched between his hands.

Her eyes widened. "Are you okay?"

"What? Huh? Y-Yeah!" He turned, pulling her off to the side so they were both pressed against the wall, with him at the friend, fire extinguisher raised and ready.

"Stiles?" Scott's strained voice called out. "Malia?"

They shifted, peeking in through the door.

Hunched over and panting on a bench, Scott looked up at them. "What happened?"

"You tried to kill me." Stiles put the extinguisher aside and yanked off his lacrosse gloves.

Malia's hand found his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

He nodded at her and then took a seat on the ground, staring up at Scott seriously. "It's like I told you before. It's the anger. It's your pulse rising. It's a trigger."

Malia stared down at Scott. "Jackson pissed you off?"

Scott nodded. "He's just… a _dick_."

"No arguments there."

"Stiles, everything you said, that's lacrosse... It's a pretty violent game, if you hadn't noticed."

"Well, it's gonna be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field." Stiles tossed a hand up. "You can't play Saturday. You're gonna have to get out of the game."

Scott's eyes darted. "But, I'm first line!"

Stiles sighed. "Not anymore."

Groaning, Scott looked between them. "I _earned_ this. All summer _and_ winter break. I've been practicing non-stop! And now I have to quit because…"

"Because you might rage out and hurt someone, yeah." Malia crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, it sucks, I won't lie. But, Scott… You know this is the smart play. At least until we find a way to keep you from wolfing out."

"Wolfing out," Stiles repeated. "I like that."

She kicked his ankle distractedly. "There's always next year."

"What if there isn't?" Scott frowned. "What if I can't fix this?"

"Hey, don't think that way." Stiles shook his head. "We can figure this out."

Scott sighed, forlorn and disappointed. But, there was nothing more for them to say. This was just how it had to be.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

For the record, Malia hadn't planned on hanging out with Allison that night. In fact, she had planned on being the homebody Danny was completely right in accusing her of being and just eating a grilled cheese sandwich while she did her homework. Instead, Allison had texted to see if she wanted to get food, since her parents had unexpectedly gone on a date. Agreeing before she could talk herself out of it, Malia soon found herself sitting at an In n' Out Burger, scraping the second slice of cheese of her Double-Double.

Allison giggled. "Why get it if you're gonna scrape it off?"

"The cheese to meat ratio is off. It only needs one slice of cheese, otherwise that's all I taste." Replacing the top of her bun, Malia picked it up with both hands and tore off a large bite. "Anyway, you asked for _extra_ tomatoes. Who does that?"

"Me. And it's delicious." Allison smiled, chipmunking her food in one cheek as she let out a laugh.

Malia dipped a few fries in her strawberry shake and popped them in her mouth before dusting her hands of salt. "So… How was your weekend?"

"Good. _Short_." Her nose wrinkled. "It went by really fast. Lydia and I hung out on Sunday."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She grinned. "We went to the mall; it was nice."

"Cool." Malia nodded, picking at her fries.

"So, you and Lydia…" Allison stared at her curiously. "Do you think you could be friends?"

"I think Lydia and I operate on completely different wavelengths. Not in a bad way. She does her thing and I do mine. I'm happy with that, and I think she is, too. She's pretty happy with where she landed on the social hierarchy."

Allison hummed. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you like where you are on the… _hierarchy?_ "

Malia shrugged. "I don't hate it. Being popular's never really been a thing for me. I have my friends and that's enough."

Allison nodded. "That's kind of how I see it, too. Or, well, how I want it to be. Like I said, it can be hard to maintain friendships with all the moving. But, I'd like to. You know, settle in one place and just have that one group of friends. Or even just one really good friend."

Malia scooped a fry through a small hill of ketchup. "And that's Lydia?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I like her. She's very… confident." Reaching up, Allison tucked her hair behind her ears. "Maybe I'm hoping it'll rub off."

"You don't seem very meek to me."

"I'm not. Or, well…" She tipped her head thoughtfully. "I don't know if 'meek' is the right word. Just, self-conscience sometimes. Self-aware."

"I get that."

"Do you?" Allison raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You seem pretty confident, too."

"Not in everything. I suck at math. I avoid social interaction. I'm blunt in a way that makes people uncomfortable. And when I'm scared, I get confrontational. Like, my 'flight' option is faulty. I almost always go for 'fight.'"

Allison ducked her head as she laughed. "I can see that. You look like someone who's ready to fight."

"I have my moments." Malia took a sip of her milkshake and licked her lips clean. "Anyway, the point is that we all seem like something on the outside, but that doesn't guarantee who we are. You seem nice, but for all I know, you're secretly a serial killer, picking off victims until the local police notice, and then you just pack up and move on."

"Ah, right, you've totally figured out my secret. My parents are just for show. I secretly keep them locked in my basement during the day and only let them out for social gatherings."

Malia grinned. "At least you're honest."

"The most honest serial killer you will ever meet." Allison tipped her milkshake at Malia. "Cheers."

With a laugh, Malia knocked her own cup against Allison's. "Cheers."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After dinner, Allison dropped her off at home and Malia spent a long and frustrating hour on her homework. She was about ready to turn in for the night when she heard a shuffling noise outside her house.

Shiloh heard it too, lifting her head from her bed and zeroing in on the window, her ears back and her teeth bared as she let out a low growl.

Malia stood from her desk chair and tried to strain her hearing. Given the strange appearance of Derek Hale in various places, she didn't want to ignore what could be a warning sign before he turned up out of the blue. However, just as she was searching her room for anything that could be used as a weapon, there was a knock at her window, followed by, "Malia? It's Scott."

Letting out a relieved sigh, she crossed the floor and yanked her window up, sticking her head out to glare at him. "What're you doing here?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Something happened. I needed to talk to you."

"And you couldn't call?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I panicked."

Pursing her lips at him, she leaned back in her room. "Get inside before you wake my dad up." She stepped out of the way and waited for him to clumsily climb through before she carefully closed her window. "What happened?"

"Derek showed up at my house."

"What?" Her eyes widened. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, he just… He pinned me to the wall and he said he saw what happened today, on the field."

She frowned. "I forgot to tell you… I saw him there, at practice. We talked."

"You _talked?_ " He winced when she shushed him and lowered his voice. "Sorry. But… About what?"

"Well, you, obviously." She waved a hand at him meaningfully. "I ran into him the other day, when I was jogging, and—"

His brow furrowed. "Just how many times have you run into him?"

"Just those two times, not including the party…"

Scott's brow furrowed. "He found you in the woods and you didn't think to tell me?"

"I don't know. It wasn't a big deal. He didn't attack me or anything. He just said that you were going to need him if you wanted to figure this werewolf stuff out. And I told him he needed to be more transparent because so far, all he's been is really shady and suspicious. He didn't exactly like that and told me you were dangerous. Which, duh, we've figured that out, but we're working on it. Anyway, when you and Stiles ran off the field today, he was there, watching, and he said you were probably hurting Stiles, since you were going all… _wolfy_ , so I left and found you guys."

He groaned and combed his fingers into his hair, pulling at it. "Malia, Derek is dangerous."

"I know."

" _No_ , you don't. You can't just… confront him or— or run around in the woods all alone."

Her gaze flattened. "Watch it. Because it sounds a lot like you're trying to tell me what to do. Like I'm some weak little flower than can't protect herself. And you're wrong. I may not be a werewolf, but I'm not afraid of one either."

"Maybe you should be! Maybe…. Maybe everyone should be. Because I don't know what I'm doing and it could end up hurting you or Stiles or _anyone._ "

Sighing, Malia stepped toward him. "Scott, I'm not afraid of you."

"That's the problem!" He stared at her searchingly. "You're not afraid of anything. Not the creepy woods, where werewolves are just running around biting people. Not of _actual_ werewolves that threaten and follow you. And not of me, because you think that somehow I'm going to be able to control myself. Well, guess what? Today, in that locker room, I almost killed Stiles. I had _no_ control over myself. He could be dead right now, because of _me_ , and I… I…" His shoulders fell abruptly and his eyes sparked with tears. "I'm scared."

Malia's anger fled her in that moment, replaced with worry instead. She reached for him, her hand landing on his shoulder and tugging until he was pressed flat against her body, his chin hooked over her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him as his own circled her waist, his hands balling up the fabric of her shirt into fists. She could feel him shaking against her and dragged a hand down his hair, fingers soothingly brushing the nape of his neck.

"I know it doesn't seem like it now," she murmured, "but you'll get through this."

He let out a disbelieving huff. "My mom thinks I'm on drugs, my best friend thinks all of this is cool, I separated Jackson's shoulder today, and Derek Hale threatened to kill me if I set one foot on the lacrosse field this Saturday… How is _any_ of this going to be okay?"

Malia sighed. "We won't let Derek hurt you, and we won't let you hurt anyone else." She leaned back a little to catch his eye, her hand cupping his cheek. "I can't fix Jackson's shoulder, but honestly, he probably deserves it."

He snorted. "Lia…"

"Fine. Maybe not. But you didn't do it on purpose and he'll heal eventually." She shrugged. "The point is… You are _not_ alone."

He stared back at her. "Neither are you… I know you're strong. I know you could probably beat me up, werewolf senses and all, but we don't know what Derek's capable of, and I don't like that he keeps searching you out. So, just… be careful, okay? Because I worry about you. Even if you don't want me to."

Chewing her lip, Malia nodded. "I can maybe see your point…"

"Maybe?"

"A tiny bit." She rubbed her hands down his arms. "Is the freaking out over then?"

"Mostly." His brows jumped then. "But I forgot to tell you!"

Malia rolled her eyes. "Clearly our communication skills suck…"

"After school today, before scrimmage, I talked to Allison. I wanted to apologize about Friday and her dad was there to pick her up."

"Okay…" Her brow furrowed. "I've met him. Briefly."

"Yeah, so have I. He was in the woods Friday night! He was one of the _hunters_."

Malia's chest squeezed as a cold dose of reality rushed through her. "What?"

" _Yeah_." He nodded. "Her dad wants to _kill_ me… Literally."

"Wow."

With a groan, Scott sank down and sat at the edge of her bed. "What am I gonna do?"

"Well, a pity party isn't going to get us anywhere." She joined him on the bed and crossed her legs at the knee. "We just need to figure out this control thing. Then her dad won't have any reason to find out what you are, because you'll never give him a chance to."

He fiddled with his fingers. "How do we do that?"

She turned to look at him and admitted, "I have no idea."

He sighed.

"But we've got until Saturday to figure it out, so…"

"Six days."

"Six days."

He stared at her. "Maybe Stiles is right. I should quit lacrosse until I figure this out."

Malia frowned. "It would give us more time…"

"But?"

"But, it sucks. I know how much you wanted this."

"Yeah." His shoulders slumped. "I just wish it was different, you know?"

She hooked her arm around him and rested her chin on his shoulder. "I know."

Reaching up, Scott covered her hand. "Can I stay here tonight?"

She looked up at him. "Your mom's not going to notice?"

"She's got a late shift tonight. She took it _specifically_ so she could be at my game on Saturday." He grimaced. "She's going to be so disappointed in me…"

"I don't think your mom knows _how_ to be disappointed in you." She shook her head. "Seriously, Melissa loves you. She's not going to your game to watch lacrosse. She's going to _support_ you."

"And now I'm not even going to play."

"Maybe." She squeezed him. "We've still got six days. You never know what'll happen." Pushing up off the bed, she walked to her dresser and dug around inside. Finding his sweat pants and tank top, she tossed them over. His new reflexes made sure he caught them one-handed. "Here. I borrowed these last week."

"Thanks." He left her bed to change in the bathroom while Malia moved around her room. She closed her homework and put it away in her bag, figuring she could finish the rest in first period tomorrow. Turning off all the lights but her bedside lamp, she slipped into her bed and readjusted herself so she was laying on one side instead of the middle.

When Scott came out, the bathroom light shone behind him, highlighting him in an all too cheesy and strangely ethereal glow. She silently told the butterflies in her stomach to take a hike and refrained from comment.

He bundled up his clothes and left them in a pile on the floor beside her desk before padding across the floor to climb into bed next to her. As he settled in, he asked, "This is okay?" His arm was pressed against hers; warm, bare skin touching.

"Yeah. It's fine." She turned her head toward him. "Can you get the light?"

"Mm-hmm." He reached up and turned out the lamp, blanketing the room in darkness. Laying back, he stacked his hands on his chest and tapped his fingers together, staring above at the ceiling. "Hey, Lia…?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

Her brow furrowed. "For what?"

"Just… always being here." He turned over onto his side so he was facing her. "I didn't forget what you did, you know? When the wolf was on top of me and I thought it was going to kill me, you lured it away. I don't know what would've happened if you didn't. But, you risked your life to save mine and… that's amazing."

She stared at him; his face was dressed in heavy shadows, but her eyes adjusted enough to make out his features. "You'd do it for me."

He let out a scoff of a laugh. "You believe in me too much."

"No," she said, sincerely. "I believe in you exactly as much as you deserve."

He didn't answer, simply gazing back at her.

Malia felt that oversized marble in her stomach grow another two sizes mockingly. "Get some sleep. We've got a busy week ahead of us."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Uh, good night."

"Night."

Malia turned herself over; laid out on her side and faced away from him. She glared out into the darkness of her room and took a deep breath. Letting it out slowly, she closed her eyes. She was supposed to be getting over him, not making late-night confessions in the dark. Sometimes she wondered just how transparent her feelings really were, and if Scott already knew but wasn't sure how to address them. So, he just _didn't_ to spare them both the awkwardness.

She fell asleep worrying about exactly that.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _so much happened in this chapter, but i feel like it was necessary to help move the plot forward. so scott's werewolf status is officially confirmed. derek is turning lurking into an extreme sport, and malia is having a hard time dealing with her feelings. i really wanted to highlight the strength of scott and malia's trust and friendship in this chapter, as well as to see just how close these two wander to crossing that line. i also wanted malia to have a support system in melissa, as i think as a young woman without a mom to turn to, she would gravitate to melissa for advice._ _i hope you enjoyed it!_

 _next chapter will feature: a ton of friendship, chris argent, a surprise guest appearance, derek, henry tate, concerned!scott, and a confession. oooh._

 _thanks for reading, please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	5. second chance 2

**word count** : 8,458  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under collections for one named after this story  
 **episode** : 1x02 - second chance at first line

* * *

 **V**

When Malia woke the next morning, Scott was gone, leaving behind a sticky note that read, simply— _thanks! see you at school! - scott_

She plucked it off her lamp and held it above her head for a moment, tracing the letters of his name with her eyes. And then she groaned and dropped her hand down onto her face. "When did I become such a _dope?_ "

Shiloh let out a little bark for attention, tail wagging hard enough it was knocking against the floor.

Malia turned herself over and peered, sleepily at her dog. Half-smiling, she pulled herself up from her bed and walked over to Shiloh's bed, crouching to rub her hand over Shiloh's head and pet her ears. "Pee time?"

Shiloh wiggled around, her tongue lolling.

"Thought so."

After taking Shiloh out to use the front lawn as her personal bathroom, Malia plopped down on the couch with a bowl of Corn Pops balanced in her lap and sighed. They were only halfway through January and she was already tired of school both mentally and physically. Of course, that probably had a lot to do with the more recent werewolf drama than anything. Not that school work was particularly enjoyable…

There was a knock at the door then, drawing her attention. Before she could call out, it swung open, admitting Stiles. He nodded 'hello,' flicked his fingers in her direction in a wave, and made his way to her kitchen. He poured himself a bowl of cereal before he joined her on the couch, flipping over the back to land gracelessly next to her on the cushions.

She eyed him curiously. "You're early."

"Thought we could go over options for this Derek Hale problem." He reached over and knocked his spoon against hers before digging into his cereal. Mouthful, he said, "Whaoofinkboutgetimarsted?"

Malia blinked at him. "I'm gonna need to say that again with less food in your mouth."

Chewing obnoxiously, he rolled his eyes and swallowed. "I said, what do you think about getting him arrested?"

Her nose scrunched up. "For what?"

"Stalking? Breaking and entering? Biting people in the freaking woods? Take your pick."

"I'm not sure most of that will stick. And anyway, what if that just pisses him off?"

"Can't get much retaliation from a jail cell." His waved his spoon at her rather smugly, spraying her cheek with a little milk. "Whoops." He stuck the spoon in his mouth and used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe it away.

Malia swatted him away and glared. " _Ew_. And what if your dad just gives him a warning? So far, all we know is that werewolves are supernaturally strong and fast and can hear and smell things from long distances. That and if provoked or angry, they can be really violent. So, what happens if we bring this up to your dad and it makes Derek snap?" She shook her head. "If he really did bite Scott—"

"And the evidence points to _yes_ , he did!"

"—right, so if he _did_ , then shouldn't we be wondering what he was doing in the woods in the first place? Because we know why _we_ were there…"

Stiles' brow furrowed. "You think he killed the girl."

"I think it's a pretty weird coincidence that a body shows up in the woods, severed in half, and when we go looking for it, it just so happens that a _werewolf_ takes a giant bite out of Scott's hip. I mean…"

"So, that's what we can get him on then!" Stiles nodded quickly, his eyes bouncing around as he started to put together the threads of a plan.

"Wait, wait, wait." Malia waved a hand to slow him down. "We don't actually know that Derek did it, or that he's the one that bit Scott."

"How many werewolves could there possibly be in Beacon Hills?" He scoffed. "No, he did it. I'm sure of it."

Malia frowned. "But why though? Why seek Scott out if he turned him? If he is a killer, if that's what his intention was that night, then it just doesn't make sense."

"Unless he's making a _pack_ of killers…" Stiles sat back against the couch thoughtfully. "What if he is?"

"Scott would never go for that. I mean, he's _Scott_."

"When it's not a full moon, sure. But, you saw him yesterday. When something sets him off, he's not himself. He didn't even recognize me. He just wanted to… tear my throat out." He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze falling to his lap. "We have to do something."

"Yeah, well, we're running out of time to come up with a plan, so if you have any suggestions…"

Stiles blew out a sigh and shoved a teetering spoonful of Froot Loops into his mouth, chewing them sulkily.

Malia joined him.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

At school, Malia was sitting in the grass under her favorite tree, picking through the assigned book for English so she could get a head-start on what she wanted to write for an upcoming essay. The teacher had given them a few options to pick from, but she was having trouble focusing on anything in particular. She couldn't stop thinking about her conversation with Stiles that morning. What if Derek Hale was both a murderer and a werewolf and he really was trying to pull Scott into whatever twisted up after-school special he was playing out in the woods? As much as some of the pieces seemed to fit, she felt like something was missing. All Derek had tried to do— in, admittedly, the most lurky and suspicious manner possible— was warn them that Scott was dangerous. If he really was a killer, wouldn't he encourage that kind of behaviour rather than keep Scott from playing in a potentially rage-inducing game that weekend?

Taking a bite out of her apple, she chewed on both it and those thoughts, her book sitting forgotten in her lap.

"Hey!"

Startled, she looked up to see Allison standing in front of her wearing a bright, friendly smile. "Hey."

"Guess what?"

Malia shrugged. "I don't know. What?"

"I know I said I was busy after school today, so we couldn't get to the gym, but my plans with my mom were cancelled, so, I'm free! If you're still up for it, I thought we could give the drop-in a try."

Nodding, Malia put her book aside. "Sure. I'm not doing anything after school."

"Great!" Allison took a seat in the grass, folding her legs beneath her. "We can leave from here if you want. I just need to drop by my house really quick."

Malia hesitated briefly, thinking of Allison's dad and how he was, apparently, a hunter. Much as she liked Allison and even wanted to let this friendship they were building actually go somewhere, there was another part of that couldn't help but see this as a good chance to dig up some information. There was a high chance she would find nothing worth noting. It wasn't like a potentially dangerous hunter just left his 'to kill' list out in the open for strangers to read. Then again, maybe he was terrible at his job… One could hope. "Sure. I don't mind."

"Cool. Then I'll meet you at your locker after last class."

"Sounds good."

Allison motioned to the book then, sitting atop Malia's bag. "English class?"

Malia nodded. "Yeah. Prepping for the essay."

"Ugh. I hate essays." Her shoulders slumped briefly, before she perked up with an idea. "Hey, we should work on it together. Like, have a study session or something. We can trade ideas on the character's motivations. Maybe it'll help us flesh out whatever topic we pick."

In the past, Malia had mostly done her homework with Scott or Stiles. Usually Scott, if only because Stiles had trouble sitting still for too long. He was easily distracted, which meant that it rubbed off on the rest of them and, well, little got done. On his own, Stiles was brilliant. It might take him a little longer, but as long as he didn't have an outside stimulant distracting him, he stayed on top of things. Malia couldn't say the same. She was average at school. There were classes she liked and others she'd rather break a finger than go to. But, she persevered. Scott was a little easier to work with. He was patient and encouraging, if sometimes distracting in an entirely different way… Malia shook her head then, feeling a stab of discomfort at recognizing her awkward feelings for Scott when his kind of, sort of girlfriend was sitting in front of her, making a seriously kind gesture.

"Sure. But, forewarning, I'm a terrible study partner."

Allison grinned. "I'm sure we'll figure it out."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Leaving last period, Malia looked up as a jogging Scott caught up to her. "Hey." Her brow furrowed. "I thought you and Stiles were hanging out today. He had some ideas about how to work on your whole… 'aggression' thing."

"We are. I just wanted to talk to you."

"Oh. About what?"

"About last night."

"Okay…" She unhooked her bag from her arm and crossed the hall to her locker. "What about it?"

"After I had my freak out, we didn't talk much about the whole Derek thing."

"I think you got your point across. You think he's dangerous and you want me to be more careful." Opening her locker, she switched out the books she needed for that night's homework and put the others away. "I get it."

"I don't just think he's dangerous, he _is_ dangerous." His fingers cupped her elbow, tugging at her so she'd look at him. "Look, I don't know a lot about him. I tried looking up the Hale fire, but it didn't give me much to work with. What I do know is that he's a werewolf. You don't know what it's like to feel that out of control. There's this… this _need_ to hurt things. It's like every human part of you just stops existing for a moment and everything goes red."

Malia's brow furrowed. "Okay, but that was when you were triggered."

"Right. But we don't know him. We don't know what his triggers are. Or what he'll do to keep this werewolf thing a secret." He glanced around the hallway quickly, nervous that someone might overhear, and then he leaned in a little closer and dropped his voice. "I just, I need you to remember that he's not like us. Not like _you_. His instincts are different."

"Scott—"

"Malia, I _know_ you, okay? You want to fix things. You want to protect the people you care about. I admire that about you. But I don't want you to search this guy out." He stared at her seriously. "He's already found you twice. I don't know why, but he has. Maybe it's a warning to me. That he can get to the people I'm closest to. _I don't know_. But don't make it easier for him."

Taking a deep breath, she let it out on a sigh. "I promise I won't go looking for him, all right?"

Relief visibly flooded him. At least until—

Malia poked his chest. "But you are right about me being protective. I don't care if he's a werewolf or a _leprechaun_. If he comes for you or Stiles or your mom, this weak little human is going to de-fang that furball."

Scott stared at her a beat and then broke out into a goofy grin. "Thank you." Leaning forward, he popped a kiss on her forehead and then fled, turning on his heel so he was walking backwards down the hall as he called out, "I'll Skype you later!"

Malia frowned after him, aggressively pretending her forehead was not— in any way, shape, or form— _tingling_.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

That afternoon, Malia found herself standing in the foyer of the Argent house, her arms crossed loosely over her chest.

"I just have to grab my stuff from my room. If you're thirsty, the kitchen is _that_ way…" Allison pointed to her right before she climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Malia watched her go for a moment and, when she was sure Allison was out of hearing range, started toward the kitchen. She took her time, looking at the pictures on the wall and displayed on a few end tables. A pink-cheeked, brightly smiling Allison at various ages with Chris Argent and a sharp looking red-head. Victoria, that was what Allison had said her mother's name was. Victoria Argent looked like the personification of a poison-tipped dagger. It was a little unnerving to look at.

"It's Malia, right?" a vaguely familiar voice said.

Jumping, Malia turned on her heel to see Mr. Argent staring back at her with a warm grin that made that the dimple in his chin pop. "How is, uh…" He snapped his fingers. "Forgive me, I've forgotten your dog's name."

"Shiloh. And she's doing good. She gets tired a little easier than usual, but she's healing."

"I'm glad to hear it." He nodded. "Are you and Allison doing something today?"

"Gymnastics." She shifted her feet awkwardly. "I was into it when I was younger, but lost interest. So, we're gonna see how rusty we are."

"That's great." He brightened. "I'm glad to see Allison is making friends. It can be hard on her, moving so much."

"Yeah." Malia nodded. "She's mentioned it."

"What about you?" He leaned his hip against the kitchen island, seeming completely at ease. "Have you always lived here?"

"As long as I can remember, which is pretty much kindergarten." She cocked her head curiously. "Are you guys planning on staying? I know Allison's hoping she'll get to set down roots, make friends with people she knows she won't have to say goodbye to."

His smile wavered a little, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. "You ask the hard questions, don't you?"

"Never really saw the point in talking around a subject." Malia shrugged and walked a little deeper into the kitchen. "Being blunt is just part of my charm."

"That it is." His gaze fell as he nodded. "Well, I wish there was an easy answer. I can say that we came back to Beacon Hills because it was home once. The Argent family has a lot of ties to this place. Unfortunately, my business demands that I move around a lot. It's not an ideal situation for Allison and I get that, but she's good at adapting."

"Most people are when they have to be." Malia stared up at him, feeling like a rope of thorns was twisting around in her gut. It was dangerous to tread this close to the subject at hand; to lay out a bear trap right in view of the bear. "What business are you in, anyway? Must pay well to travel all the time."

His mouth kicked up faintly. "Looking for a part-time job?"

Malia snorted. "Probably wouldn't hurt."

"I'm a security consultant and, when necessary, an arm's dealer. All above-board, of course."

Her brows hiked. "Arms," she repeated. "Like, _guns_."

He nodded. "It's a booming market. Which, I know can sound a little scary, but… It keeps me in business."

Humming, Malia looked to the side thoughtfully. If he was dealing in guns, that meant he had an arsenal at his disposal. This wasn't like her dad going on a trip to the woods with a few buddies. This was serious.

"So? Still interested in that part-time job?" he joked.

She looked back at him. "My dad hunts— deer, mostly— so, I can handle a gun if I have to. But, somehow I don't think there's a weekend gig I can pick up."

"No. Not exactly." He stared at her searchingly a moment, a tiny furrow between his brows, and Malia worried that maybe she'd shown her hand just a little too much.

And then Allison walked into the kitchen. "Please, tell me you aren't embarrassing me by interrogating my friend."

"Strangely, I feel a bit like I was the one being interrogated." Mr. Argent grinned though, before crossing the space between them to stand in front of Allison. "Are you gonna be home for dinner?"

Allison glanced at Malia and shrugged. "I don't know. We might pick something up. It depends on how things go."

"Okay. Keep me posted." He dropped a kiss on Allison's head. "Your mom knows where you're going?"

Rolling her eyes, Allison nodded. " _Yes_. I already texted her." She held up a bag then. "We really have to go. We still have to stop at Malia's to grab her things."

They didn't, actually. Malia was borrowing some clothes from Allison since her house was so out of the way. Since Allison was clearly looking for a way to get out of the house and away from her dad, however, Malia nodded. "I kind of live out of the way and the gym is only open to the public for so long."

"All right. Message received." He held his hands up in surrender and backed away obligingly. "You girls have fun."

"Thanks." Allison half-smiled. "I'll see you when I get home."

"Okay. And Allison?"

She was already passing Malia for the hallway leading to the front door, but looked back at him over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Love you."

Embarrassed, her cheeks flushed an even brighter pink. "Love you, too," she mumbled, before hooking a hand around Malia's shoulder and towing her toward the door.

Malia let her, purposely not turning around to glance at Mr. Argent. Knowing now that he was a hunter— that his job was to hunt down people like Scott— Malia wondered if the wary feeling in her stomach was a forewarning of just how complicated this whole situation was becoming. She glanced at a picture of the Argent family, sitting prettily on a table, next to a vase of fresh flowers. There, they looked perfect. Ideal, even. Two parents with their lovely daughter. The sharpness of Victoria's features seemed softened and the clear adoration Chris had for his family was evident in his grin. And in the tender kiss he left on Allison's head before she left. It was a strange thing to think about. That a man could so viciously hunt down and kill a werewolf and then come home to be a loving father in the same evening.

"Sorry about that," Allison said as they left the house, the door clanging closed behind them.

"It's fine."

"He's just overprotective." She twisted her mouth up. "They both are."

As they walked down the driveway to Allison's car, Malia wondered, "Does it bother you?"

"Sometimes, yeah. I mean, I know the world isn't all rainbows and bunny rabbits, but sometimes it feels like he's trying to shield me from having a life at all. I think if he had it his way, I'd spend any time not in school locked away in my room like some kind of Rapunzel reject."

Malia hummed. After climbing into the passenger seat, she put on her seat belt and then chewed on the next words she wanted to say. They'd climbed up her throat and were sitting heavy on her tongue. A part of her didn't want to voice it, but another part couldn't help it. "As someone whose dad kind of sucks at the whole 'present parent' thing, I kind of get the appeal of having someone worry about you, too. It might suck, but at least you know he cares."

Allison shifted in her seat to face her. "Your dad…?"

"He's around. He just never really got over my mom and sister dying. And I get it, because it still hurts me, too. But… I don't know. Sometimes I wish he'd stop living so much in the past."

Allison's mouth turned down sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

Malia shrugged. "It's okay. I get by just fine. And I'm not saying that your dad deserves an award or anything for being overprotective. I just think there's a balance. _Somewhere_. Somebody's gotta find it."

She smiled then and nodded. "I get it."

Awkward now, Malia faced forward. "Cool. So, let's get to the gym. I wanna see how much I suck after six years of completely forgetting everything I was ever taught."

With a laugh, Allison pulled the car down the driveway and onto the road.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Later that night, Malia returned home to entirely too much homework. Although, in her opinion, any homework was too much homework. After taking Shiloh out to pee, she took a shower, sang along to some retro Britney Spears, and smoothed her soapy hair up into a faux-hawk. Finally finished avoiding the inevitable, she sat down at her desk to face her dreaded homework.

It was just before ten when she got the notification that Scott was trying to Skype her. Happy to put off the last bit of her homework, she accepted and sat back in her chair. "Hey!"

"Hey." He squinted and leaned toward the screen. "Is that a bruise on your cheek?"

Reaching for it absently, she shrugged. "Oh. Yeah." Rolling her eyes sat herself, she said, "It was dumb. Allison and I were on the trampoline at the gym and we were doing flips to show off. Anyway, we got a little too close and knocked into each other. She's probably got a twin bruise on her shoulder, but I got a knee to the face, so…"

His brows hiked as a slow grin formed. "Are you okay? Is she?"

"Yeah. It was more funny than anything." She stacked her hands on top of her stomach. "How did things go with Stiles?"

Scott sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Not great. I mean, I didn't wolf out or hurt him, but it's hard to stay focused. I feel like I'm being pulled in too many directions. Mom's excited I'll be playing. Coach keeps telling me I'm an asset. But, I can't concentrate in class because I get overwhelmed with all the noises and the smells and thinking that something's gonna set me off and I might wipe half of them out without even knowing it. And then I'm worried Derek will show up at the school or track you down. And _Allison!_ I feel like I'm avoiding her and I don't want to be."

"It's okay to get overwhelmed, Scott. It's not like there's a 'How To' for this stuff. But, the only way to get through this is to focus on the biggest obstacle. That's the aggression. We have to find out what your trigger is and find a way around it."

"What if we can't?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "You can't think like that! You're just psyching yourself out. Look, you wanted to get on the lacrosse team, right? So, what did you do?"

"Worked at it."

"Yes, every day and every night, you were out there hitting the field. Even when your whole body told you no, you still tried. So, treat this like that. You want to be in control, right? You want to play the game and stop worrying you're going to hurt someone. Well, work at it."

Scott nodded slowly. "You're right."

"Yeah, well, I usually am."

He smiled. "Thanks, Lia."

"Yeah, yeah." She rocked her seat forward a little. "Hey, I know you have lacrosse practice tomorrow, but maybe I can help you and Stiles on Thursday after school. We can test a few triggers and see what ticks you off."

"Is this just an excuse to poke fun at me…?" He frowned. "Because Stiles pelted me with lacrosse balls today. It sucked, but it didn't change much."

"I'm thinking it's deeper than just pain. I mean, yeah, what Jackson did physically hurt, but I think it was more than that. He was taunting you, making you feel like you weren't good enough."

"You think it's psychological?"

"Isn't everything?" She shrugged. "Can't hurt to try."

"Actually, it _literally_ can…" He brow furrowed. "What are we gonna do if you guys actually _do_ trigger something and I change?"

Malia considered that thought. "You know what, let me figure that out. If we have to chain you up, we will."

Scott's brows arched. "Chains?"

"I know. Kinky, right?"

He snorted a laugh.

A little alert let them know Stiles had logged on too, so Malia gave Scott a look and then added him to their chat. The two screens of her best friends were side by side then.

"Hey!" Stiles grinned. "Scott tell you I beaned him with a lacrosse ball today?"

Malia laughed. "No, he didn't."

Scott groaned and sunk down into his chair.

Leaning back in her seat, Malia looked to Stiles. "Tell me everything."

"Okay, so—"

* * *

 **…**

* * *

With Scott and Stiles at lacrosse practice and Allison busy with Lydia, Malia was on her own for the afternoon. Not a terrible thing; sometimes, she liked having some time to herself. It wasn't until she got home that she realized Shiloh was running low on dog food, so she made the trek down the road to the nearest convenience store, where they kept the brand Shiloh had been eating since she was a floppy-eared puppy. Grabbing up a basket, Malia made her way up and down the aisles, picking up a few extra groceries as she went, before eventually making her way to the front.

A girl sat behind the counter, wearing a dark blue smock and a crooked nametag that read _Erica_. She had bags under her eyes and her frizzy, blonde hair hung over her shoulder in a loose braid. A geometry book lay open in front of her, pencil tapping against the edge. She looked up, startled, as Malia started unloading things on the counter.

Quickly standing from the bench, Erica smoothed shaky hands down her smock. "Um, hi."

"Hey." Malia put the basket to the side and cocked a curious brow. "Are you new? Usually, Ramón is running the front."

"Yeah, he's my cousin. I just started last week." Erica shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Did you find everything you needed or…?"

"I only came in for dog food." She looked down at the Kraft dinner, bread, licorice, eggs, and milk and sighed. "It's fine. Ramón's prices are usually better than at the grocery store anyway."

Erica half-smiled. "Yeah, kind of has to be to compete." She started scanning things through and bagging them. "Did you bring your dog with you?"

"No. I would usually, but she has a cast on her leg so walking is a little difficult right now." Malia rocked back on her heels. "You go to Beacon Hills High, right?"

"Yeah, I'm a freshman." Erica nodded, her shoulders a little hunched. "You're a sophomore, aren't you?"

"Yep. And already counting down the days to graduation."

Erica laughed. "Me, too."

The bell rang above the door, briefly drawing Erica's attention toward it, before she returned it to Malia. "Is sophomore year any better? Everyone's always talking about how being a freshman is the worst, but once you're past it, things get easier."

"It's not perfect. Most of the seniors are dicks." Malia shrugged. "I don't want to be _that_ person and say 'it gets better,' but it does. Anyway, high school is only four years of your life, right? Personally, I'm hoping to get out and never look back."

"My dad says that all the time. But, my mom talks about high school like they were the best years of her life…" Erica grimaced. "Mom was head cheerleader, crazy popular, dating the captain of the lacrosse team. It's a lot to live up to."

Malia nodded. " _Rough_."

"Yeah." Erica sighed.

"On the bright side, you've got a job. You're already one step ahead of me." Malia dug her wallet out to pay the balance. "Which also means you're one step closer to getting a car which, trust me, comes in handy."

"I don't know if working part-time is going to buy me a _good_ car, but if it gets me from Point A to Point B I'll be happy." Erica handed her back her change and put the receipt in one of the three bags she'd filled.

"Thanks." Taking the bags off the counter, Malia nodded. "See ya."

"Yeah, see you around." Erica smiled before retaking her seat on the stool and returning to her homework.

Malia made her way outside, readjusting the bags so the weight didn't pull too much to one side. She was just crossing the dirt parking lot when flashing headlights caught her eye. Turning, she stared at the sleek black Camaro that was slowly rolling toward her. She raised an eyebrow and squinted through the tinted windshield to find Derek Hale frowning back at her.

With a sigh, she glanced at the store and then moved around to the passenger side. As the window rolled down, she bent to see him. "You know, at this rate, a stalking charge is right around the corner…"

He rolled his eyes. "Get in."

Malia shook her head. "Why would I do that?"

"Those bags look heavy."

"I'm a lot stronger than I look."

He stared at her a beat, a peculiar look on his face, and then— "It's about Scott."

Malia frowned. Her heart tugged and then dive-bombed into her stomach. "What about him?"

Derek sighed irritably. "If you get in the car we can talk about it."

"Why should I trust you?"

Out of patience, he told her, "If I wanted to hurt you, I would have by now."

"That's literally the _least_ encouraging thing to say."

Derek rolled his eyes. "There are security cameras outside the store. If you go missing, the first person police will look at is me. All right? I'd be stupid to do anything to you."

She shrugged. "I never called you smart."

Sighing, he shook his head. "Will you just get in the car? Please?"

Malia considered saying 'no,' but she was intrigued. Plus, she had questions for him regarding Scott and his new werewolf status. Questions she was pretty sure only he could answer. "Fine." She pulled the door open. "But, if you wave one claw or sprout one fang, I'll make sure you never have puppies."

He snorted, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for her to take a seat. She'd hardly closed the door before he was pulling away from the store and onto the road.

Tucking the groceries on the floor between her booted feet, she frowned at him and pulled her seat belt on. "Well? What's so important that you're stalking me?"

"Saturday."

"The day after Friday and before Sunday." Malia leaned back in the passenger seat, affecting an unworried posture despite the fact that her stomach was a knot of uncertainty. How long ago was it that she told Scott she would be careful around Derek? Was it her fault if Derek went looking for her? Okay, so getting into his car probably wasn't her brightest idea thus far. But, her gut was screaming at her to figure this whole situation out.

"He hasn't quit the lacrosse team yet. Do you have any idea how much damage he could do?"

"We're working on it."

"Pelting him with a few balls isn't going to fix this. He's a _werewolf_. He has no control of himself or the shift. If he gets on that field, he'll take out anybody in the way."

Malia shook her head. "You don't know Scott. I've known him since I was ten years old. He's physically incapable of killing anyone."

"The Scott you knew is gone. When he shifts, he's something else. He doesn't see people— he doesn't see you or your friends or his family. Until he's able to control the shift, he's just a loose, feral animal. And he _will_ hurt people. It doesn't have to be intentional. It'll happen anyway."

Malia's brow furrowed. "Then how does he do it? If you know so much, then tell us how to help him!"

Derek didn't answer, scowling at the road ahead.

Giving a rough laugh, she nodded. "See, this is what I mean. You lurk and you point fingers, but when we ask you to help us—"

"You're not the only problem I have on my plate, all right? You and Scott are just one part of a much bigger issue."

Pursing her lips, she wondered, "What else is there?"

He scoffed. "If I need your help, I'll ask for it."

"I wasn't offering my help." She curled a lip at him. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't like you. That tends to happen when you threaten my friends. But you have answers to my questions, so I put up with this shadowy, secretive _shtick_ you have going."

He rolled his eyes. "What questions?"

"It was the bite, right? That's how it transferred to him. Is that how it happens for everyone?"

Derek glanced at her, brow furrowed. "No. Most are born into it. It's passed down through the family. Others are turned by their alphas."

"Alphas?"

"You really don't know anything," he muttered. "The alpha is the leader of the pack. They make the decisions, keep everyone in line, _teach_ them how to live as a werewolf, how to balance things. The only way for a human to turn is to be bit by an alpha. But being bit doesn't guarantee they'll become a werewolf. It's more than that." His jaw clenched. "If anything, Scott is lucky. He might not see it that way, but what he's been given is a _gift_."

"Generally, a person gets to decide if they want a gift."

The car suddenly pulled to a stop then and Malia looked up to see they were parked in front of her house. She wasn't sure if this was a kind gesture or a not so subtle message that he knew where she lived, so she should be a little more careful.

Derek shifted in his seat to face her. "You need to talk to Scott. He won't listen to me."

"Threatening his life wasn't the smartest route." Malia grabbed up her bags and pushed the car door open. "Thanks for the ride."

Before she could climb out, his hand coiled around her forearm, gripping tightly

Malia looked down at it and then raised an eyebrow at him.

He didn't let go, but he did let up a little. "Scott thinks I'm trying to ruin his life. I'm _not_. I'm trying to stop him from hurting innocent people. I can't be there every time he puts someone at risk, but I have a feeling you will be. So, talk some sense into him and keep him off that field." He stared up at her, his eyes flashing a startling blue. "Do you understand?"

Malia tore her arm free of his hand. "I don't like being intimidated. And I really don't like being a go-between. If you're so worried then step up and teach him how to stay in control." Leaving the car, she slammed the door shut and walked toward the house, her heart pounding a little too hard and her palms sweaty. But she kept her chin up, unwilling to let him see her fear.

Once she was inside, she leaned against the door and sunk to the floor. She listened with half an ear as gravel kicked up under the Camaro's wheels as he left. Letting out a heavy breath, she dropped her head back and closed her eyes. For a moment there, she could admit that she'd been scared. That a part of her still was. Malia didn't know Derek or what his motivations were. He said he wanted to keep Scott from hurting others, but he only popped up to throw around threats of violence. If he really was Scott's 'alpha,' then shouldn't he be doing more?

A whimpering noise caught her attention then and Malia looked over to see Shiloh making her way toward her, her gait slow and awkward. She climbed into Malia's lap and licked Malia's chin, offering as much comfort as she could.

Malia let go of the bags to wrap her arms around Shiloh, burying her face in her dog's fur and just breathing in her familiar and comforting scent. She let herself break down for just a few minutes— let herself be swamped with panic and worry. And then she shook it off. She stood from the floor and picked up the bags. She scratched Shiloh's ears and led her over to her bowl so she could refill it with food and water. As much as Derek Hale and his prophecies of death and violence scared her, she wasn't going to let it dictate her life or choices.

That didn't mean, however, that she wasn't going to try and keep Scott from inadvertently hurting people.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Later that night, Malia Skype'd Stiles to talk about his and Scott's lacrosse practice.

"Barely got off the bench, as usual." Stiles sighed. "I ran a few drills, but I don't think I'm making first line any time soon…"

Malia frowned. "That sucks."

"Yeah, well… Not all of us have supernatural werewolf reflexes."

Leaning forward, Malia rested her chin on her hand and stared at him searchingly. "Does it bug you?"

"Am I jealous, you mean?" His brows hiked, a faint smile pulling at his mouth. "I don't know. Maybe a little." He shrugged and dragged a hand over his shortly cropped hair. "Scott sees it as a burden and, I mean, don't get me wrong. There's some downsides here."

She snorted. "That whole raging violence thing, yeah."

"Right, _but_ … Look at all the other parts to it. He's faster, stronger, can hear, see and smell better. At what point do we start thinking that maybe the benefits outweigh the problems?"

"About the same time we're sure he's not going to accidentally _kill_ somebody."

"Yeah." He scratched his chin. "Well, he played goalie today. Since he catches everything and Jackson wasn't around, nothing really set him off. But, Coach said he'd be on the field on Saturday so he better be ready to play."

Malia hummed. "Good."

"Yeah, what about you? What'd you do today?"

Malia thought about lying. She thought about burying everything that had happened with Derek and just never thinking about it again. But there were things that Stiles needed to know. Scott too, of course. In the process of trying to help Scott, it was clear that she and Stiles needed to have more information on what to do. "I ran into Derek Hale again."

"Wait, what?" He leaned forward in his chair, eyes bouncing around her face. "And you're just telling me this _now?_ "

"You were busy." She shrugged. "Anyway, it wasn't a big deal."

"When? How? _Why?_ "

"I was picking up dog food and he pulled his car up, said he needed to talk."

Stiles slapped his hands together in a prayer. "Please, _please_ tell me you didn't get in the car."

Malia grimaced.

"Are you kidd—? _Malia!_ " He threw his hands up. "What if something happened, huh? What if h-he took you or killed you? How would we even know?"

"There were security cameras outside the store and—"

"And what? So, we find out _after the fact_? That gives us no chance to react, to help you, _nothing_."

Sitting back, she nodded. "You're right. Look, I wasn't thinking about that."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he groaned. "What were you _thinking_ then?"

"He said he wanted to talk about Scott. He threated to _kill_ Scott like two days ago and we only had a few days before he played the game. I was hoping he'd give us something to work with. Something that would help us help Scott."

"Okay, okay," he interrupted, waving his hands. "I get it. It's _Scott_. We want to keep him safe. But you can't risk your _life_ for that."

"Stiles, you're the one who wanted to go into the woods to look for a dead body while a killer was still on the loose! I'm not sure you can point fingers at me for not being safe."

"Yes, I made a dumb suggestion and we probably never should've gone into the woods. But getting in the car of a potential murderer-slash- _definite_ werewolf kind of outranks that."

"What? _How?_ "

"We _might_ have run into a murderer. You knew for a _fact_ you were getting in the car of a werewolf!"

Malia rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, whatever. The _point_ is that he didn't kill me and we did talk."

Stiles shook his head. "Not the only point, but sure, what did he have to say?"

"A lot of things. But the most important piece is that he said Scott wasn't his only problem. That he had more on his plate than just us."

"Yeah." Stiles nodded dismissively. "He's probably talking about the hunters that they ran into in the woods."

Malia frowned. "I think it's more than that. When I asked, he avoided the question. If it was the hunters, he could've just said that. He knows Scott would've told us. I think something else is going on. Something bigger than all this."

Stiles seemed skeptical. "Bigger than Scott wolfing out and killing the whole lacrosse team?"

"On the bright side, if you're on the bench, your chances of survival are a little higher…"

Stiles snorted. "Not a terrible point."

Rolling her eyes, Malia scraped her hair up into a ponytail. "Anyway, he wants us to keep Scott from playing. Which I'm not completely against. At this point, we have a day or two to get his issues under control. I'm not sure if throwing balls at him is going to accomplish that."

"I've been working on that." He drummed his hands against his desk. "I have an idea…"

"I'm all ears."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Come Thursday, Malia found herself regretting her clothing choices for the day. After showering that morning, she'd noticed a bruise on her forearm. It was shadowy, but it perfectly outlined four long fingers. Apparently, Derek had held on a little too tight. In an effort to avoid any discussion about it, she'd decided to wear a long-sleeved cardigan to keep it covered. The last thing she needed was a teacher or her dad seeing it and making it into a big deal. But, now that she was at school, she was realizing just how warm it was.

By lunch, she was sitting outside by her favorite tree, her cardigan purposely pushed off her shoulders but still covering her arms. Picking at her food, she tried to concentrate on her book, but found her thoughts drifting to what she and Stiles had planned for after school. They needed to get Scott worked up, but she couldn't help worrying about what they would do once he _was_. If he really was a danger, how sure could they be that they could subdue him before he hurt _them_?

Fed up with feeling sticky and sweaty, she removed her cardigan, letting it pool behind her. There were no teachers around and Scott and Stiles were practicing in the field, so she didn't imagine she'd have much issue. At least until—

"Hey!"

Malia looked up, squinting against the sun, and found a smiling Allison and an unenthusiastic Lydia in front of her. "Uh, hey."

Allison took a seat in the grass, her legs crossed beneath her. She unhooked her bag and pulled out her lunch, purposely not looking at Lydia, who was pursing her lips in distaste. "So, I was thinking, if you're free next week, maybe we could go to the gym again."

"Yeah?" Malia smiled. "How's your shoulder?"

Allison laughed. "Not as bruised as it could be. Your cheek healed pretty quick."

"Some of this is make up."

Lydia sniffed. "I didn't know you wore any." She carefully took a seat and plucked at her skirt, rearranging it so it flared around her thighs fashionably.

Malia glanced at her. "Mostly just mascara. There's only so much YouTube tutorials can teach you."

She hummed. "You're lucky you have such nice skin. You get away with it."

Taking the compliment for what it was, Malia merely nodded. To Allison, she said, "It was fun. I'm up for going again if you are."

"Definitely."

Fanning herself, Lydia lifted up her hair and pulled it over one shoulder. "You two realize it's much cooler inside, right? And I don't just mean that _socially_."

Allison wiped at her forehead, where sweat was beginning to dot, and then shrugged off her jacket. "It _is_ pretty warm today."

"You get used to it." Malia chewed on a corner of her sandwich. "What're you doing this weekend?"

Allison looked to Lydia and then shrugged. "Haven't decided yet. Lydia said she might go bowling."

Malia raised an eyebrow, her mouth kicked up, amused.

"What is that? Why the look?" Lydia pointed at her with a pretty pink fingernail. "Why is that funny? You don't think I can bowl?"

"It's not the bowling. Most of that's math and angles. You're probably good at it."

Raising her chin rather haughtily, Lydia said, "I am."

Allison looked between them nervously. "Guys—"

"What's funny is the idea of you wearing bowling shoes."

Lydia's nose scrunched up. "I prefer not to think about it."

Malia laughed. "Maybe you can get a custom pair made, with a little wedge heel."

A small smile formed on Lydia's mouth. "Not a completely terrible idea, Tate."

It wasn't exactly an olive branch to start over, but it was something. Lydia soon turned the conversation to lacrosse, asking them if they were excited for the first game.

Malia grabbed up her bag and dug around inside it for a container of sliced up oranges. Taking off the lid, she pulled one out and was just sinking her teeth into it when she noticed a pause in the conversation. Looking up, she found Allison frowning at her.

Malia looked down and realized her arm was on full display. Wiping orange juice from her chin, she shook her head. "It looks worse than it is."

"Is that from gymnastics?" Allison's brow furrowed.

"Uh, yeah." Malia rubbed her arm awkwardly. "It's fine."

Lydia squinted. "It looks like fingers." She reached out, folding her hand around Malia's arm and slotting her fingers against each one. When she looked up, her gaze was sharp. "I'm not familiar with gymnastics. Which part would cause an injury like that?"

Malia shook off her hand and leaned back. Before she could come up with some kind of excuse— admittedly, she had no idea what she was going to say anyway— Stiles appeared.

"Hey!" Stiles grin wavered, however, when he realized just who she was sitting with. His wide-eyed gaze bounced from her to them and back, brows raised expectantly.

"Hey, Stiles. This is Allison and Lydia. Also, what are you doing here? I thought you and Scott were practicing…?"

"We were. But then he kicked my ass, so I tapped out." Abruptly taking a seat, he grinned at Lydia, briefly glancing at Allison. "What are you guys doing?"

"Nothing, just wondering what kind of trouble Terrible Tate's gotten herself into now." Lydia kept her gaze on Malia— as much as her words could have been cruel or rude, they instead sounded _slightly_ concerned.

"What?" Stiles' voice raised before he turned a panicked look on Malia. "What makes you think she's in trouble?"

Lydia's gaze fell to Malia's arm, which drew Stiles' eye as well.

"Whoa! What is _that?_ " He reached out, fingers barely brushing her skin. "When did that happen?"

"At the gym, with Allison." Malia frowned. "It's not a big deal."

Stiles stared at it, his mouth falling open to disagree.

"It looks like fingers," Lydia said again.

Stiles looked up and turned, catching her eye.

She stared at him a beat and then returned her attention to Malia. "Not that I care, but the school employs a counselor for a reason."

Malia bit the inside of her cheek, simultaneously amused and annoyed. "Thanks for the tip."

With a tiny shrug, Lydia looked to Allison. "Can we go inside now, please? This heat is destroying my hair."

Allison looked from her to Malia, wide-eyed. "Uh…"

"Go ahead," Malia encouraged. "I'll text you later. We can make a plan for the gym."

"Okay. Great." Allison smiled as she stood, picking up her jacket as she went. "Bye Malia. Stiles."

He waved at her, gaze following Lydia as the two girls climbed the stairs to the school. As soon as they were out of sight, he whipped his head back around to her. "Is that what I _think_ it is?"

Sighing, Malia grabbed up her cardigan and pulled it on, covering her arm once more. "Derek was trying to get his point across. Apparently, he really wanted me to remember it."

Stiles' face tensed and he shook his head. "We need to do something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know! But he can't get away with this." He fidgeted, shifting around uneasily. "We should tell Scott."

" _No_."

He frowned at her. "He'd want to know."

"He has enough on his plate," she insisted. "And if we tell him, he'll do something stupid, like confront Derek."

"What's so wrong with that?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Scott has a short fuse lately. He could end up hurting himself or Derek. Even killing him! Werewolf or not, Scott would never be able to forgive himself for killing someone. We need to handle this the right way."

"Great!" He scoffed. "So, what's the right way?"

"We get Scott under control and then we figure out what Derek is hiding. Because if there's something else out there, we should know about it."

"What if the big secret is that he's a psychotic serial killer? Huh?"

"Then we prove it and your dad arrests him." Malia shrugged. "But not until we know for sure. I don't like him, but he knows things we don't."

Stiles sighed. "I don't like this… He knows where you live, he's purposely looking for you, and he _hurt_ you…"

"This is barely anything." She shook her head. "Allison kicked me harder at the gym. He's just trying to intimidate me. And I'm not going to let him."

"Yeah, well, _I'm_ intimidated. _And_ worried _…_ "

"I'll be fine." Malia grinned encouragingly. "I promise."

Stiles stared at her a long moment and then held out a hand, his pinkie raised and an eyebrow arched.

Malia bit her lip to hide a smile. "You're such a dork." She hooked her pinkie around his and squeezed. "I _promise_."

As certain as she sounded, however, they both knew that some promises were inevitably broken.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _okay, so, sorry for the late update. i meant to get this up yesterday. small issue. chapter 6 ballooned into just under 14k and i prefer not to post that much in one chapter, so i've split it into two. however, i made a promise you would all see concerned!scott and a confession, soooo, i'll post the second half in a couple days. and i'll still post regularly come this weekend, so it won't be a week and a half long wait!_

 _on the bright side, there's more malia &stiles friendship in this. a few of you mentioned there wasn't much in the last chapter, so i hope this makes up for it. there was less scott/malia though, because much of it is in the second half of this chapter._

 _things to look forward to next chapter: danny, anchor?!, malia talks to her dad, a confession, a confrontation, and a plan. :)_

 _thanks for reading, please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	6. second chance 3

**word count** : 9,865  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under collections for one named after this story  
 **episode** : 1x02 - second chance at first line

* * *

 **VI**

Malia glanced in the direction of the librarian to make sure he was far enough away he wouldn't shush her. The guy had ears like a hawk; always ready with a stern look and a wag of his finger. Semi-sure he was far enough away, busy restocking shelves, she turned back to Danny, "What party?"

Danny rolled his eyes. " _My_ party. Are you coming?"

"On Saturday? Don't you have a game?"

He shrugged. "Plenty of time after. Especially if we win."

Malia tapped her pencil against her notebook. "I don't know if I can make it…"

Danny's brows arched, unconvinced. "Let me guess. It's something Scott McCall related."

She frowned. "No…"

He shook his head. "It's up to you what you wanna do. But, if you feel like having some _fun_ , you know where I live."

"I'll see what I can do." She sat forward in her seat and crossed her legs at the ankle. "Anyway, what if you guys lose?"

"Gotta love that confidence, Tate. It's a real morale booster."

She snorted.

"Anyway, if we lose, then the party picks our mood up." He grinned. "If we win, then we celebrate. There's no downside here."

"That also means that most of your guests are probably lacrosse players." Her nose scrunched up. "Not really my type."

"Your on-going crush on McCall says different."

Shushing him, she glared. "I don't have a _crush_ —"

"Call it what you want." He smirked. "But, I think you could meet someone you like if you'd give the party a chance. A guy, a girl, whatever you're into."

Malia shrugged. "I'll think about it."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After school, Malia made her way out to the lacrosse field. Arriving earlier than the boys, she took a seat on the benches and dug her English book out, getting through a couple chapters before she heard familiar banter approaching. It was late enough that the school and the parking lot were basically empty, reducing the chances that somebody would see what they were doing.

Stiles, unlike Scott, carried a bag of lacrosse balls, his gym bag, and a stick.

She rolled her eyes and put her book away. "I thought we agreed that wasn't going to be enough."

"Multiple sources of irritation." Stiles shrugged. "We start with one thing and then we add more and more."

Scott looked between them skeptically. "Until?"

"We find out your threshold, that way we can build on it." Stiles shrugged. "Until almost nothing sets you off."

"In _two_ days?" Scott's brows hiked. "Guys, I'm not sure this is going to work…"

"Yeah, well, standing around wondering isn't going to change anything." Malia stood and tied her hair up in a high ponytail. "So, how do we do this? We just chain him up and start throwing balls?"

Stiles grinned. "Pretty much."

Scott sighed, shoulders slumped, but made his way toward the net anyway. Stiles and Malia followed. Inside Stiles' gym bag were the chains; they each took one out and got to work. It took them a few minutes to make sure Scott was secure, but eventually, no matter how much he pulled or squirmed, Scott couldn't find a way out. He stood in the center of the net, arms stretched to either side.

Malia and Stiles took up position a good twenty-feet in front of him then. She tossed Stiles a lacrosse ball and watched as he swung his stick back and then took a run forward, arching his stick forward to throw the ball. It landed a few feet short.

Scott stared at it before sending them an amused smile. "Nice one."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Here, give me another one."

Malia threw him another ball and put her hands on her hips.

Stiles dug his toes into the grass and gave it another go, swinging his arm as hard as he could. This time, the ball connected, bouncing off Scott's head.

"Okay. _Ow_." He gave his head a shake. "I don't like it, but I'm not feeling anything _weird_."

"I think it's like we talked about. It's more than just physical, it's psychological." Malia nodded. "Think back to how it was with Jackson."

Scott frowned "I mean, it hurt. I broke my finger. But it was more than that… He wanted to make me look bad. To put me in my place, I guess."

"Okay, so…" Stiles frowned. "Scott, you'll never amount to anything. You're a shitty lacrosse player."

Scott stared at him. "I don't believe you. I mean, I know you're just saying it to piss me off."

Tapping his foot, Stiles squinted thoughtfully. "Okay, try this one… The only reason you've gotten this far is because you're a werewolf. If it wasn't for that, you'd still be warming the bench with me. In fact, that's probably the only reason Allison likes you. Because you're gonna be a big lacrosse player and you don't have asthma anymore. Before that, she wouldn't have looked at you twice."

Scott frowned, his brow furrowed.

Malia's stomach bottomed out. "Stiles…" They'd talked about this— about what kind of triggers might work. Somehow, seeing it in action felt different and wrong. When it was discussed in vague terms, that was one thing. But, actually hearing him tear Scott down just didn't sit right.

Stiles ignored her. "Think about it. You never dated before. And Allison? She's beautiful and popular. Best friends with Lydia. What are the chances she'd even give you a second _glance_ if you weren't making first line?"

"That's not true," Scott said. "Allison's a good person. She—"

"Maybe she would've pity dated you, you know? But long term, she would've been on the arm of some other player by the end of the week. Lydia's probably got a whole list of more popular guys that'd be happy to take Allison out." Stiles stared at him searchingly. "The bite did you a favor. 'Cause otherwise, you'd just be a mediocre lacrosse player with no girlfriend."

Scott's jaw clenched and his eyes briefly flashed gold. "I worked for it. The whole summer and all of winter break!"

Rather than answer, Stiles threw another lacrosse ball, beaning Scott in the shoulder. He shook it off, but then another and another came. Still, while Scott looked annoyed, he wasn't raging out like he had at practice, after Jackson.

"This isn't working," Malia muttered. "You're his best friend. Of course he doesn't believe what you're saying."

"When I mentioned Allison, he flinched." Stiles rolled his lacrosse stick between his hands, his eyes darting around thoughtfully. "That's gotta be the trigger… Scott, think about last Friday. Your first date. You were excited, right? You were going on a date with Allison. It was gonna be the best night of your life!"

Scott stared at him, confused. "Okay…?"

"And then everything changed. The bite took that away. _Derek_ took that away. You had to run out on Allison, you remember? You didn't even think she'd give you another chance."

Scott's face fell.

"That's how it's always going to be. You'll keep getting close to something great and then this, all of this, is going to get in the way. Derek's gonna be right there, lurking in the shadows, ready to ruin it for you."

Scott moved his arms, pulling on his chains a little.

"He drove Allison home. Remember?" Stiles nodded. "You thought he hurt her. He knows where she _lives_ Scott. He can find her, any time he wants. And he knows where you live, too. He can hurt you or your mom—"

Scott's eyes flared yellow. "Stop."

"He bit you, Scott. He screwed up your whole life. You're going to be stuck like this, always worried you could hurt someone, _kill_ someone."

Scott pulled at his chains. "Stiles, stop."

"He went after Malia, too. Found her at the party and in the woods and he was right here, watching you when you freaked out. But he didn't help, did he? He let you rage out." Stiles paused then, a curious look crossing his face, and then he turned to her.

Malia felt something sink in her chest.

"He talked to Malia again—"

"Stiles." Malia shook her head. "Not like this."

But he wasn't listening now. "Derek found her at the store the other night. He grabbed her, Scott. So hard it left a bruise. Look!" Stiles towed her forward and yanked her sleeve up. Malia pulled away, but the damage was already done.

A loud and angry growl reverberated from Scott. He pulled back, his arms straining against the chains. His head fell forward, shoulders hunched as he panted roughly. When he lifted his head, hair had sprouted across his cheeks and from his eyebrows. He bared his sharpened teeth at them, lurching forward in an attempt to free himself. The chains whined but held. He kept pulling, his hands raised, fingers flared and long, yellowed nails clawing at the metal.

"Stiles…" She pulled at his shoulder to lead him a few feet back. "It worked. Now how do we reverse it?"

"We have to calm him down." Stiles started snapping his fingers. "It was Derek that set him off. Putting the people he cared about in danger. What's the opposite of that?"

"Rainbows and bunny rabbits," she mocked. "What are we supposed to do? Just tell him we're okay?"

"No, no we need to give him something good to think about. Something that will bring him back to the moment."

The chains clanged loudly against the goal post. Scott dug his heels in to the ground, trying to get traction, and left heel-sized gouges in the earth.

"Like what?" Her eyes widened and she turned to Scott, walking in his direction. " _Allison!_ Scott, think of Allison. Of when you met her and how she makes you feel. Think— Think about her voice and- and her smile. Think about that first moment when she walked into English class. Or when you were at the party and you were dancing."

"Didn't he freak out when they were dancing?" Stiles reminded.

"Okay, maybe not that part. But before that, when you picked her up and you went to the party. How excited you were to be there with her."

Scott leaned forward, his arms drawn behind him. He stared at her, yellow eyes bouncing across her face. He sniffed at the air and cocked his head to one side. He didn't look like himself, which was more than a little unnerving. Like a stranger wearing a familiar mask. She reminded herself that it was still him in there— beyond the excess hair and teeth and claws— it was still _Scott_.

Despite her pounding heart and every instinct telling her to stop, Malia took a step closer. "We're not afraid of you."

Stiles made a disagreeable noise in the background.

"Scott, I know you're scared. I know all of this is out of your control and that- that's _terrifying_." She nodded. "But, you're stronger than this. I know you can hear me." She took another shaky step, until she was just inches from his face.

Stiles pulled at the back of her cardigan, urging her to stop, to pause, to reconsider. "Malia…"

Malia wouldn't budge. "Werewolf or not, you're still you. And this— All this werewolf _crap_ doesn't make you who you are. _You_ do. So, just… fight it!" She stared at him searchingly. "Come back to us."

Scott peered at her from those eerie yellow eyes, seemingly more animal than man. But then—

Slowly, Malia watched the extra hair fade, his teeth shorten, and his eyes blink back to a warm brown. He fell to his knees, exhausted and out of breath. Malia let out a whoosh of breath before her legs turned to jelly and she was kneeling in front of him. Reaching out, she laid trembling hands on his shoulders. "You did it!"

He stared at her, his eyes at half-mast. "Werewolf crap?"

Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. Closing her eyes, she pressed her cheek to his, and murmured, "I knew you could."

Scott sighed and dropped his chin to her shoulder, his body slumped against hers.

"Question is, what part of it?" Stiles stood beside them, hands on his hips and fingers twitching. "What got through to you and pulled you back?"

"I… All of it. I mean, Allison and you guys." Scott turned his head, but didn't raise it. His nose gently brushed her neck as he murmured, "Everything you said."

"Can you repeat it?" Stiles stared down at him. "If you're triggered, do you think you can you remember what she said or whatever brought you back?"

His face screwed up. "I think…"

Stiles sighed. "Well, it's not perfect. But, it's a start."

Malia smiled. "Something to work with, at least." She stood then and helped Scott to his feet as well. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm _starving_ …"

Stiles snorted and made his way to the goal posts to release the chains. "I could eat."

Scott nodded. "Me, too."

"Great." Malia started gathering up the lacrosse balls and putting them inside the bag. "I want the biggest burger on the menu with extra bacon."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

When Malia got home, she was surprised to find her dad sitting on the couch, a bottle of beer balanced atop his knee. She felt a thread of wary uncertainty run through her. Despite her dad's increased drinking; he didn't do much of it at home. He tended to keep it to bars and slink in late at night, out of sight. Closing the door behind her, she kicked off her boots and made her way to her bedroom.

"You're not gonna talk to me?"

She paused just short of her bedroom door, took a deep breath, and turned to face him. "Thought you might still be mad at me."

With a sigh, Henry stared at her searchingly. He ran a hand through his hair roughly. "I'm not trying to be a bully, you know that, right? When Deaton left a message about Shiloh, I was worried. About the dog, sure, but about you, too. I know what she means to you…"

Crossing her arms, she frowned. "Then why ask how much it costs? Are we really that hard up for money?"

Henry's gaze skittered away. "I was thinking long term, Malia. If she was going to need surgeries, if this was going to be a recurring problem for her… Sometimes it's better to put an animal down than let them live in pain. And yeah, that gets expensive, so I had to think of that, too. But I don't want you to think I'd make that decision without you. She's _your_ dog, I told you that when I got her for you."

"Yeah, and she's okay. It was a tiny fracture."

"Okay, well, you could've said that. Instead, I've got you dodging me every chance you get."

Malia looked away. Knick-knacks covered the fireplace mantle; salt and pepper shakers shaped like random things— fruit, animals, etcetera. Her mother collected them. She used to visit garage sales just to see if she could find something unique to add to her collection. They were layered in dust now; gone untouched and unadded to in years. Dragging her attention back to her dad, Malia said, "I didn't think you'd want to know."

"I don't know what I did to make you feel that way, but… I care. I always want to know."

Malia felt her heart swell and pull. She chewed the inside of her cheek before the feeling could swamp her and shrugged. "It was kind of hard to tell with you not around lately."

"I've been working."

Malia bit her tongue so she didn't lash out. Didn't tell him everything running through her head. Didn't call him a _liar_. Didn't tell him she had called his work in the past. That they said he'd gone home hours earlier, only he hadn't. He'd left work and gone to the bar. Like he'd been doing for months. That she knew he was sneaking in late at night, when he thought she was sleeping. She didn't say it, even though a desperate part of her wanted to throw it in his face and see how he excused it away. Instead, she shook her head. "I know."

"I'll try to be better, all right? But, if something happens… Honey, you gotta talk to me. You gotta let me know when something's up."

She nodded, all the while thinking about the dead body in the woods, the wolf attack, Derek Hale showing up in strange, semi-confrontational situations, and Scott, struggling to hold back his baser instincts to tear her and Stiles' throats out. "I will," she lied. Because this, to him, was a feel-good family moment, where all was set right by his brief show of parenting. Only they weren't characters in an episode of Full House and he was no Danny Tanner. "I should feed Shiloh and get some homework done."

"Okay." He smiled at her, beer still clutched in his hand.

She turned on her heel and fled for her room, closing the door behind her with a heavy sigh.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Later that night, Malia was curled up on her bed, reading a book that wasn't required by her English teacher, eating a bowl of cantaloupe and honey dew, occasionally tossing a piece Shiloh's way. Her dad had passed out a couple hours ago. She knew because when she brought Shiloh out to go to the bathroom, she'd found him slumped on the couch. Taking the empty bottle from his hand, she'd tossed it in the recycling, put a throw-blanket over him, and returned to her room. Having finished her homework, she found herself too worked up from the day to go to sleep, which was why it was almost midnight and she was nowhere closer to getting any rest.

And then a text made her phone buzz.

Frowning, Malia grabbed her phone off her bedside table and thumbed open her messages. She had one from Scott.

—' _hey, i'm outside. can i come in? or can you come outside?_ '

Standing from her bed, she made her way to her window, pulled it up, and stuck her head out to see. It was dark, but she could make Scott's figure out, still sitting on his bike in her driveway, waving.

Rolling her eyes, she stepped back into her room, pulled on a shawl and some slippers, and then climbed out her window. She crossed her porch and walked down the stairs to meet him. Leaving his bike to lean on its kickstand, Scott walked toward her.

"You seriously rode your bike out here?" She shook her head. "You could've Skyped."

"I know. I just…" He fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie. "I needed to see you."

Malia cast her gaze past his shoulder, toward the treeline. It was moments like these, when Scott showed an unreal amount of care and concern for her, that she blamed for all these weird feelings that had been cropping up. How was she supposed to get over him when he kept being, well, _himself?_ "I'm fine. Is this about the Derek thing?"

"Of course it is." He sighed. "I've been sitting at home, going over all the worst-case scenarios in my head, and I just… I can't let it go."

Malia nodded.

"Will you look at me? Malia, please?"

She didn't comply immediately. Rather, she felt a mixture of shame and defiance well up inside her. A part of her very much wanted to argue that she could make her own choices and she didn't need to run them by him first. However, another part of her could acknowledge that she'd made a dangerous choice getting in that car and it wasn't made much better by hiding it from him. Although she'd planned to tell him about it, eventually, she still kept it from him. Malia had never really had a reason to lie to Scott before. Not about anything like this. Only about her feelings. Then again, maybe that was the point. When it came to her comfort, her safety, she picked and chose what she wanted to share.

Finally, she let her eyes meet his.

His brow was furrowed and his shoulders were slumped. "He hurt you." The timber of his voice was different; deeper, strained, and coated in unmasked emotion.

"It wasn't on purpose. At least, I don't think it was… He was trying to intimidate me and—"

"And what? He _accidentally_ grabbed you?"

"No. Just…" She shook her head. "It wasn't a big deal."

"But it is. He's looking for you! He- He's purposely targeting you because he knows that I—" Scott clenched his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he looked younger. Softer, somehow. Not like the 'dangerous' werewolf he and Derek thought him to be. But like the boy she'd known since she was ten. Sweet, kind, _good_ Scott. "Malia, you and Stiles are my best friends. If it wasn't for you guys, I don't know what I'd be doing right now. This whole werewolf thing is hard enough, but now that I know Derek's after you—"

"I'm not making excuses for him, because he's pushing the 'creepy' meter up to 10, but Scott… I got into his car on my own."

He made a strangled, frustrated noise. " _Why?_ "

"Because. I—" She shook her head. "I needed answers! I wanted to know what was going on and he's the only one that can tell us."

"We _know_ what's going on!"

"I don't think we do," she insisted. "I think you being bit and this werewolf thing is just a part of it. I think there's something else, something bigger, and I think he's hiding it."

"Why?" His brow furrowed.

"Allison's dad moving here, whatever wolf bit you—"

" _Derek_ bit me!"

"Has he said that?" She stared at him searchingly. "The one thing we know for sure is that Derek is sketchy and only tells you what he wants you to know. That means there's more to find out."

Scott groaned. "You sound like Stiles when he gets stuck on a mystery."

" _Why_ would he bite you? Why is there a severed body in the woods? Why stick around if you're going to do that? Why search you out and try to keep you from hurting people?" She lifted her shoulders. "There are too many unanswered questions."

"I don't _care_ about that! Okay?" His breathing picked up, chest heaving. The softness faded and in its place was an angry, worried, sixteen year old boy. "I don't care about Derek or why he's here or why he did it. All I care about is getting this thing under control! About keeping you and Stiles and my mom and everyone I care about _safe_. I don't need to be inducted into some super secret werewolf club. I just want to have a normal life and play lacrosse and go on dates without having to worry about _hurting_ someone."

Malia stared at him a long beat. "I know. And I get that. But… _I_ have questions. And I feel like finding out the answers is going to help you in the long run."

"So, you just climb into some possible serial killer's car?"

"If it means saving your furry ass, then _yes!_ " She stepped up, glaring at him. "You think you're the only one that wants to keep people safe? That has people they care about that could be in danger because of this? You're not! I might not have the teeth or the claws or the extra facial hair to show for it, but I'm just as invested in this as you are."

"You're also a lot more fragile than I am. Proven by the giant hand-shaped bruise on your arm!"

"So what?" She tossed her hands up. "So what if I'm human and breakable and _fragile?_ You think that's going to stop me?"

"No! I think it's going to do the exact opposite!" He stepped forward, until they were toe-to-toe and she could feel his warm, panting breath on her mouth. "You don't run when you're supposed to run. You don't hide when other people hide. Since we were kids, you ran head first into _everything!_ And I've always admired that about you. But not in this, not _now_. Not against Derek or werewolves or hunters or whatever else is out there."

"I don't know what you want from me here. I told you I would try to be more careful—"

"And then you got a ride home with Derek!"

"And I'd do it again."

" _Why?_ "

"Because I love you!" Her heart leapt up into her throat, threatening to cut off her air supply.

Scott stared at her, wide-eyed.

She felt the sting of rejection before it'd even fully formed on his face or his tongue or in his heart. That 'oh Malia, you know you're my best friend, right? You know I'll always be here, right?' So, she jumped ahead, past the part where he told her she was one of the most important people in his life, but _not like that_. "You're my best friend. You and Stiles are…" Her voice wavered and she had to swallow to steady it. "I can't afford to lose you. Either of you. So, if that means interrogating a werewolf, then fine. I'll interrogate a werewolf. And maybe it's dangerous and scary and you don't want me to do it, but I can make my own decisions and not you, not my dad or Stiles, _nobody_ gets to tell me what to do."

Scott didn't answer right away, just sort of staring at her. Until finally, he nodded. "I… Yeah. You're right."

 _Huh?_ Malia frowned skeptically. "Really? I was expecting more of a fight."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still worried and I don't like to think that you'll risk yourself for me, but… If it was you, I think I'd do the same thing. I'd probably be a lot more scared, but…" He shook his head. "When I was on that field and Stiles was saying all those things, I hated it. All of it. But the part that really hit me was that maybe I won't be able to keep everyone I love safe. Before this happened, my asthma made me feel weak. Like I couldn't do the things everyone else could and if I tried, I'd eventually end up failing. I fought really hard to get through that. I practiced for months for lacrosse, hoping that I could build up my lung capacity and it wouldn't hold me back. And then this happened and, for the first time, I felt like I was strong enough to do what I wanted to. But now, I look at Derek and I think about how out of control I can get, and it's like I'm not even safe from myself. And nobody around me is either."

Malia softened a little. "You don't have to save everyone… Sometimes you just have to trust that they'll save themselves."

"Yeah." He half-smiled. "I think I'm starting to get that."

Letting out a heavy sigh, she shook her head. "I get it, you know? Wanting to protect us. But, we're going to make choices that you don't always agree with. Especially now, since there's not exactly a book on how to handle your friend turning into a werewolf."

"Maybe you can write one when all of this is over."

She snorted. "Maybe."

He gazed at her a moment, searching her face. "Can I see it?"

"The bruise? It's not even that bad." Still, she shuffled her shawl up and out of the way and raised her arm for him. The porch light didn't offer much, but she guessed it was enough since he seemed perfectly capable of making out the shadowy remnants of Derek's hand on her skin.

He cupped his palm under her elbow to hold it up while his other hand settled atop her forearm. His fingers were gentle as they probed the bruise. "Does it hurt?"

She shook her head. "I'm really fine."

He nodded, but continued to stare at her discolored skin, his brow furrowed.

"It's not you fault. You can't blame yourself for any of this… Except maybe making the choice to go into the woods and search for a severed body, but that's on all of us."

His mouth turned up faintly on one side. "Yeah." His thumb lightly dragged along the length of her forearm, the tips of his fingers skimming down the side. And then he was clearing his throat and letting her go. "I should head back. It's late."

"Yeah." She let her arm fall to her side. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Scott nodded, his hands tucked in the pocket of his hoodie. "Malia?"

"Yeah?"

He stared at her searchingly. "You know I love you too, right?"

It was strange wasn't it, that those words hurt more than they healed. That, for him, those words screamed of an unbreakable bond of friendship. And while much of that was true for her as well, it went so beyond that. Her heart ached with an empty want, ringing hollow instead of full. She wished she could take back her own confession so he could eat the wholesome sincerity of his as well. Because she did love him— more than a silly crush had once implied. She realized that at some point, she'd fallen for her goofy, floppy, best friend, and that she would risk life and limb to keep him alive and safe. And while she was sure that Scott would do the same for her— because that was just the person he was— the drive for him would be different.

In all the books she'd read, all the movies she'd watched, love was always framed as healing instead of hurting. Or, if it did hurt, someone else came along to sweep up the broken pieces and glue them back together. But, Malia had her own broom and dustpan. She would do her own cleaning. "I know," she told him, and she smiled. "Goodnight."

"Night."

She walked away, her arms crossed tight over her front, and she let her smile fall away as she climbed the stairs to her porch.

Love _sucked_.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"You told him you _loved_ him? What!?" Stiles stared at her, wide-eyed. "What happened to getting over him?"

"I didn't mean it like _that_ …" Malia slumped down in the passenger seat of the jeep; it was way too early to be talking about this stuff. But, the ride to school was the only opportunity they had to talk about it candidly. "I was upset, all right? Anyway, he knows I meant it as a friend."

Stiles squinted at her. "Did you, though?"

"Of course." She scowled. "Just because I have a tiny crush on him—"

"Tiny?" He snorted. "Not the adjective I'd use."

"Nobody asked you…" She glared. "Anyway, I think we're okay now."

"'Okay' as in Scott's not going to freak out every time you hitch a ride from a homicidal werewolf? _Mmmm_ … Sounds unlikely." He waved a hand. "In fact, it sounds completely impossible."

"I don't need his approval. I just want him to trust that if I'm in trouble, I'll do whatever I can to keep myself safe."

Stiles turned to look at her, his brow furrowed. "Malia, you are _literally_ the strongest woman I know. Maybe even the strongest person— werewolf strength notwithstanding. And caring about you, worrying about you, that's not _underestimating_ you. It— It's not about that. I'm as human as they come and if I thought for a second that you were in danger, you don't think I'd risk my ass to help you?"

"Of course you would." She frowned. "And I'd do the same for you. I'm not actively looking for Derek. He keeps finding me. I just take the opportunities as they come."

"I get that, I really do. But until we find out what's going on, don't you think it'd be smarter if we did that together?"

"Between lacrosse and Allison, Scott's free time is limited."

"Then let _me_ help you. We can solve this Derek Hale, werewolf mystery together, all right? But that means talking to me about what you find out. And it means trying to avoid being alone so Derek can just appear from the shadows… Are we sure he isn't actually a vampire?"

Malia rolled her eyes.

"Seriously though, you think hybrids are a thing? Like if vampires are real, too, there might be a werepire mix out there somewhere…"

"Completely ignoring the strange segue your brain just took, _yeah_ , I think we should work together to figure this werewolf thing out. Not just for Scott's benefit, even though he clearly needs our help, too. But because I really think something else is going on."

"Okay." Stiles nodded. "Let's Scooby Doo this bitch."

Malia sighed. "I'm already regretting this…"

"What? That's an awesome catch phrase!" He grinned. "Come on… Admit it."

"I'm not talking to you for the rest of the ride."

Stiles just laughed.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"I have a problem."

Malia looked up from where she was crouched in front of her locker, digging around for one of her sweaters. She always kept an extra one at school, but there were only gym clothes that definitely needed to be washed, an extra pair of running shoes, and a… lunch bag that she did not recognize. "What's up?" she asked Scott, who was fidgeting next to her. "You look like you really have to _pee_."

"What? No!" He hooked his thumbs in the straps of his bag and blew out a whining sigh. "My mom texted me. She got tomorrow night off for the game. And then I ran into Allison and she wants to go on some weird double date with Lydia and Jackson after. She told me to invite you and Stiles too, though. So, is that still a date or…?"

"Okay, well, yesterday didn't go terribly. I mean, you were able to control yourself eventually." She stood, dusted her knees off, and grabbed out her books for next class. "And you said you thought you'd be able to recreate it, right?"

"Kind of… Sort of… _Probably_." He sighed. "What if I can't?"

Malia stared at him. "Bloodshed."

"Maliaaa…" His body slumped and he fell sideways, leaning against the lockers.

"We can test it again today, after school, but you've really only got one choice here." Closing her locker, she stared at him. "Play or don't play. It's up to you."

" _That_ 's your big advice?"

"It can't get any simpler than that…" She started down the hall and Scott fell in to step with her. "And I think we both know what you want to do."

He grimaced. "I don't want to hurt anybody."

"Then don't." She looked up at him. "It's one game… There's always another one."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

At lunch, Malia found herself standing in the hallway with Allison, being introduced to a _third_ boy of Lydia's choosing.

"Allison, this is Brent. He's a varsity basketball player." Lydia grinned up at him coyly. "Brent, this is Allison. She's new here. Just moved to town a couple weeks ago."

"Hey," Brent said, dragging his gaze from Lydia to focus on Allison and then looking curiously at Malia. "Who's she?"

Before Lydia could reply, Malia did, "Terrible Tate. I aggressively beat up assholes under the right circumstances… You're not an asshole, are you, Brent?"

He stared at her, a little wide-eyed. "Uh… No."

"Are you sure?" Malia frowned at him. "'Cause I'm getting a very douchey vibe right now."

"Ignore her." Lydia rolled her eyes. "She doesn't play well with others."

Malia grinned, all teeth. "I thought I was being polite."

"I have to go…" Brent backed up. "Uh, practice. Bye." He turned tail and hurried away then, leaving the three girls to stare after him.

"Real nice, Tate," Lydia snapped. "See, this is why you have no friends."

"And every time you introduce Allison to someone it becomes _blindingly_ clear how you ended up with Whittemore."

Lydia's mouth pursed and her nose wrinkled. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"That your taste in men… _sucks_." Malia raised an eyebrow. "Also, Brent Bailey has a girlfriend that he frequently cheats on with anything that moves. So, maybe try _not_ setting Allison up with losers."

"The only _loser_ I've seen today is y—"

"Okay, that's enough." Allison separated them with an awkward smile. "Malia, I think Lydia's just trying to introduce me to new people, not set me up with anyone… It's hard being the new girl and she's trying to make it a little easier." She looked to Lydia then. "Right?"

"Right," Lydia chirped, keeping her smug gaze on Malia. "I'm just being a _very_ good friend."

Malia's eyes narrowed. She was about to snap at her again when she noticed Stiles trying to flag her down. Sighing, she muttered, "I have to go. Allison, I'll see you later. Lydia, try not to break an ankle on those stilts."

"These are _Christian Louboutins!_ "

"I don't care," she replied, leaving the two behind in favor of her best friend. "What is with all the gesturing?"

Taking her by the shoulder, Stiles pulled her down the hall to where a set of stairs led up into a hallway. There, she found the Principal, Sheriff Stilinski, and a deputy talking. "What's that about?"

"I don't know, but it has to be serious, right?" Stiles looked back at her, then spotted something past her shoulder, and rushed away. Seconds later, he dragged Scott from his locker to where they'd been standing, watching from the corner. Stiles pointed to the group and said, "Tell me what they're saying."

Scott frowned back at him but then looked ahead, squinting.

After a few seconds, Stiles impatiently jarred Scott's shoulder. "Can you hear 'em?"

" _Shh!_ " Scott focused ahead, relating back to them, "Nine-thirty curfew for anybody under eighteen, because of the body."

"Unbelievable." Stiles stood back and waved his hands around irritably. "My dad's out looking for a rabid animal, while the jerk-off who actually killed the girl is just hangin' out, doing whatever he wants."

" _Alleged_ killer," Malia corrected. "We still don't know for sure."

Both boys pinned her with an unconvinced frown.

She shrugged. "I'm just saying…"

Looking back at Stiles, Scott said, "Anyway, you can't exactly tell your dad the _truth_ about Derek."

Stiles grimaced. "I can do something."

Scott cocked his head. "Like what?"

"Find the other half of the body." Stiles nodded, _decided_ , and turned on his heel to leave.

Scott's hands fell to his sides as he leaned forward in surprise. "Are you kidding?"

But Stiles didn't reply, instead leaving them to stew over this new information.

Malia shrugged. "He's got a point."

"You too?" Scott sighed at her.

"We've talked about it before. If we can find the other half of the body, we can solve this mystery once and for all. If Derek is the killer and/or your alpha, then that kills two birds with one stone. Body equals due cause for the Sheriff to arrest him that has nothing to do with this werewolf business."

"You guys are talking about going back out to the preserve and digging around until we find a body. Which also means trying to avoid a werewolf with super-senses. What if he finds us?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Good thing we have you and _your_ super senses then, huh?"

Scott sighed at her, but then his attention moved past her and he frowned.

Malia turned to find Lydia introducing Allison to yet another semi-popular athlete. "She's been doing that all day."

"What?" Scott looked back at her, wide-eyed. "Really?"

"Yeah. Allison thinks she's just being nice."

"She isn't." Scott's mouth flattened. "She warned me in math class that if I didn't play the game and make sure the team wins that she'll personally make sure Allison find someone else to date." He sighed. "What do I do?"

Malia shrugged. "I'd start by _not_ making my decisions based on peer pressure and scare tactics… But, that's just me."

Scott shook his head and then paused. "You see her jacket?"

Malia looked over to the black fabric hung over Allison's arms. "Yeah. What about it?"

"That's the same jacket Derek used to lure me out last week, after the party… Which means he was here…" He looked up at her. "You think it's a threat?"

"Or just an attention grabber."

Scott ground his teeth. "I can't let him get away with this."

"It's just a jacket, Scott."

"No, it's a sign. That he can get to them— to you, to Allison, to Stiles— anytime he wants."

"You think he's declaring war with a jacket?"

"Maybe not war. But it's definitely a warning."

Malia frowned. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm tired of hiding and avoiding and pretending I haven't noticed what he's doing." Scott lifted his chin and let his eyes flare gold. "If he wants to talk… we'll talk."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

By the time Scott arrived at the burned up husk that was the Hale house, he was even more angry than he'd been at the school. It wasn't just about Allison, even if she was a big reason as to why he was there. It was more than that. It was showing up at the party and the school, threatening him at his house, cornering Malia in the woods and giving her a ride home. It was the bruise he left on her arm and the constant threat of attack or violence. It was the _whole_ thing.

Tossing his bike aside, he yelled, " _Derek!_ " He shrugged off his backpack, letting it fall to the ground in a heap, his lacrosse stick and helmet strapped to it. "Derek!" There was no answer, but as he stood there, his nose caught the scent of something. His head turned, searching it out, and saw a patch of fresh dirt. The itch of curiosity drew him toward it, but before he could go looking, he caught something out of the corner of his eyes.

When he looked, he found Derek standing on the porch of the Hale house, ominously.

Worked up, he shouted, "Stay away from her!"

"Which 'her' are we talking about, Scott?" Derek walked the length of the porch and hopped down to the ground below. "Allison or Malia?"

"Both!" His hands folded into fists. "Looking for Malia in the woods, giving her rides home, _hurting_ her!"

Derek's eyes narrowed. "I didn't—"

"You left a bruise on her arm." Scott's eyes flared yellow. "Stop looking for her. Stop following her. Stop _talking_ to her."

"It's not my fault that she's the only one willing to listen to reason…" Derek crossed his arms over his chest, not the least bit intimidated. "She asks a lot of questions. Questions you _should_ be asking."

"This isn't about that."

"Isn't it?" Derek shook his head. "You're a threat, Scott. You think your little buddy Stiles can just google werewolves and now you've got all the answers, is that it?" He scoffed. "You don't get it yet, but I'm looking out for you."

" _How?_ All you've done is threaten me. You left me to freak out at that party. You drove Allison home to send me a message. You used her jacket to lure me out!"

"Because you were dangerous. Because I knew you'd shift and it was better to get you somewhere safe, somewhere away from people."

"What about today then? Huh?" Scott stared at him searchingly. "With the jacket."

"I needed to get your attention."

"For _what?_ "

"I know you still plan on playing."

Scott ground his teeth.

"Think about what could happen. You're out on the field, the aggression takes over, and you _shift_ in front of everyone…" Derek bent then, grabbing up Scott's lacrosse stick. "Your mom, all your friends. And when they see you—" He poked Scott in the chest with his stick.

Scott swatted it away, glaring.

Derek tore through the laces of the stick with his claws. "—everything falls apart."

Scott stared, brow furrowed, and then shook his head. "That won't happen."

"Won't it?" Derek stared at him. "You don't know what you're doing, which makes you a liability. Until you change that, you're a threat to everyone around you. Your mom, Allison, and especially Stiles and Malia. They want to help you so they put themselves in harm's way. But what happens when they can't talk you down, huh? What happens when you can't hold back anymore and you attack Stiles again?"

"Stop."

"Or when you tear Malia's throat out with your _teeth_."

" _Stop!_ " he yelled, vibrating with the intensity of his anger, his teeth elongated and his nails out.

Derek shook his head, looking both judgemental and disappointed. "You're a time bomb. And eventually… you _will_ explode." Derek tossed the lacrosse stick into the air then.

Distracted, Scott caught it, and when he looked back, Derek was gone. Slowly, his features returned to normal, but the weight of Derek's words kept him rooted in spot.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After school, Malia was walking with Stiles to his jeep when she got the text. "Scott wants to see us at his place."

Stiles' brow furrowed. "Did he say why? Is it about where he went and why he missed last block?"

Malia thumbed back a response. —' _you missed last block. what's up?_ '

—' _i talked to derek… didn't go great. but i think i found something_.'

Malia frowned. —' _found something? that's not ominous at all._ '

—' _i know. just meet me at my house and i'll tell you everything. please? and bring stiles_.'

She sighed and looked back at Stiles. "He went to Derek's. I told you he would… He said he found something there."

Stiles' eyes lit up. "Like what? Like werewolf stuff or a body stuff?"

"He didn't say. He just said he'd tell us when we got there."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Stiles hurried his steps. "Let's go!"

Malia rolled her eyes and continued her walk to the jeep. While she was just as interested in what Scott had to say, she rather liked annoying Stiles and didn't feel like wasting an opportunity. He glared at her when she finally hopped into the passenger seat.

" _Seriously?_ "

Malia grinned. "Come on. A mystery's waiting, Shaggy."

Stiles turned the ignition and then paused. "Wait, does that make you Scooby?"

"Will you just drive?"

"All right, all right." He pulled the jeep out a little jerkily, waving dismissively at a few other people in the parking lot that honked at his abrupt driving.

It took them fifteen minutes to make it out to Scott's, much of which was spent listening to Stiles wax _paranoia_ about what Scott might've stumbled upon. "Could be the body. Could be _multiple_ bodies… Or maybe it's something even creepier, like Derek keeps the remains of his dead family propped up in the house." He grimaced. "I hope it's not that one."

Malia sighed. "I seriously doubt that. The bodies would've been taken in by police and buried by now. Or cremated."

"Died in a fire only to face another fire." He shook his head and tisked. " _Dark_."

"Why don't we just wait to get to Scott's and hear what _he_ has to say?"

"Because." He grinned. "This is fun!"

Finally reaching Scott's, Malia took her time leaving the jeep and walking through the McCall house while Stiles took off like a shot and raced up the stairs two at a time. She could hear Stiles desperately asking, "What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it? And, yes, I've had a lot of Adderall, so—"

"I found something at Derek Hale's house," Scott interrupted. "I went out there to confront him about the jacket and Malia and just, _everything_."

"Okay, _and?_ "

Malia walked into the bedroom to see Stiles standing impatiently, his leg jittering.

Looking from Stiles to Malia, Scott said, "There's something buried there— I could smell blood."

Stiles lit up. "That's _awesome!_ " His voice fell. "I mean, that's terrible. Whose blood?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "He's a werewolf, not a psychic."

"I know, but still. Was there, like, a sign of who it might be or…?"

Scott shook his head. "I don't know. But when we find out, _your_ dad—" He pointed at Stiles. "—nails Derek for the murder. And then we get back to figuring out how to make sure I play lacrosse without changing, because there's no way I'm _not_ playing tomorrow night."

Stiles grinned excitedly. "So, we're going body hunting again? This time in the less creepy light of day… I'm _in_."

"Of course you are." Malia turned her attention to Scott. "What happened out there?"

Scott's mouth flattened. "We talked."

"About?"

"About Allison and the jacket and… It's whatever. He thinks I'm a liability. And I think he's a killer, so…"

"So, let's say we put him away for the murder. Then what?"

"Then…" His brow furrowed. "Then he doesn't kill anyone else and things go back to normal."

Malia crossed her arms. "Derek going to jail doesn't fix the fact that you're a werewolf and that we know almost nothing about what that means."

"Okay… but having him out of jail isn't helping much either. I thought you'd be happy. He won't be able to follow you anymore. _And,_ if he really did kill that girl, she'll get justice."

"Of course I want justice for her. But, no offense to her, she's already dead. There's no changing that. Finding out more information about you and werewolves in general feels a little more important."

"Than catching a _murderer_?" Stiles scoffed. "Priorities, Malia."

"Okay, _you_ just want to solve a murder, because you can't wait for the FBI academy. I'm trying to make sure we gather enough information from Derek before we completely alienate him from us."

"Hey! I'm interested in doing _both_ of those things…" Stiles paused. "I just think finding the body should take precedence since Derek saw Scott today and he might get spooked and move the body. So, small window to act on it."

Scott nodded. "He's right. If he thinks I noticed the body, he could do something, and then we'll have no way to find it again."

Malia clenched her teeth. They had a point. As much as she wanted to utilize Derek's knowledge, she also recognized that he was a threat. Or, at least, he kept presenting himself as one. "All right, _fine_. We find the body and then we get as much out of Derek as we can while he's locked up."

"Great. Just one stop first." Scott started for the door with the two of them following.

"Where?" Malia wondered.

"The hospital… I want to check the morgue, see if the body smells the same. If it does, then we know it was him. If it doesn't… I don't know. I still want to know what's buried out there."

"Good idea. Could be a totally _different_ body." Stiles nodded, snapping his fingers. "So, what, we just need to break into the morgue, right?"

"Right."

Malia looked between them. "The morgue… at the hospital Scott's mom works at… Because none of us will get recognized _there_."

Scott paused. "She's right."

"So, we'll need a distraction." Stiles nodded. "Scott needs to be with the body, so you and _I_ …" He motioned to Malia, "will have to be there for another reason."

"Like what?"

Malia smirked. "Like bringing Melissa dinner. For all the hard work she does."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Beacon Hills Hospital was busy, as to be expected on a Friday night. Distracted doctors, nurses, and paramedics walked to and fro, folders and clipboards in hand. The waiting room was filled with scattered people, each in their own world. Attached to a wall was a sign listing off directions to nearby areas: E.R./Admissions, Laboratory, and Morgue. Stiles pointed it out and Scott nodded, making for the door leading toward the morgue.

"Good luck, I guess," Stiles said.

"Thanks."

A nervous Scott pushed through the door and then Malia turned on her heel. "Okay. Let's find Melissa. This food is getting cold."

"Right!"

They walked ahead, ready to ask the front desk for directions for which area Melissa was working in when Stiles let out a noise of excitement. He knocked his hand against Malia's shoulder frantically. "No _way_ …"

Lydia was sitting on a chair, twirling her hair around her finger.

"Is this fate?" Stiles wondered.

"Maybe it's gonorrhea."

He glared at her, but Malia shrugged.

"Do whatever you have to, I'm gonna go find Melissa."

"Yeah, yes, you do that." He waved her off before clearing his throat and approaching Lydia. "Hey, Lydia, you probably don't remember me…"

Rolling her eyes, Malia continued to the front desk to check in. "Hey, can you direct me to where Melissa McCall is? Super overworked nurse with a heart of gold, very little patience, and a sarcastic streak to envy…"

The receptionist snorted. "Two halls up and take a left."

Malia grinned. "Awesome, thanks."

Taking off, Malia made her way down the hall, briefly catching sight of Jackson Whittemore sitting on an emergency bed, his arm exposed as he nodded along to something a doctor was saying. Continuing down the hall, she took a left, and eventually spotted Melissa, reading over a clipboard. Hurrying over to her, she pasted on a smile just as Melissa looked up.

Melissa's brows hiked. "Did you bring me _food?_ "

Malia shrugged. "Nothing big. Mostly just a burger and a salad. I was gonna get you fries, but Stiles keeps harping on about the benefits of eating your greens, so…"

Melissa snorted. "He's not wrong." Tucking the clipboard under her arm, she reached for the bag and then eyed Malia curiously. "Any specific reason you're bringing this by?"

"Just to say thanks…? You know, for being you and doing everything you do."

"Uh-huh. Well, that was vague." Melissa crooked her finger for Malia to follow and then made her way to a break room, where she settled down at a table and started unbagging her food. "This have anything to do with the conversation we had last weekend and that crush you have on someone…?"

Malia's heart skipped. "Uh, yeah. Kind of." It was as valid as any excuse she could come up with, so she'd take it.

"How's the marble?"

Grimacing, she said, "About the size of a bowling ball and twice as heavy."

Melissa smiled understandingly. "So, no better then?"

"Possibly worse." She slumped back against her chair. "But, I've been thinking about it. About what you said about just riding it out."

"Okay. And?"

"And… I think you're right. I think… I can't control how I feel, but I can do other things. To move on, I mean…" She licked her lips. "There's this guy that's been asking me to go to a party and I keep putting it off. He's not asking me as a date, just as a friend, but he keeps telling me that I'm sacrificing my social life and I'm hiding because of this crush and… I don't know. I don't think he's wrong, exactly. It might not be the only reason that I avoid going to parties, but… it's part of it. I just got comfortable, you know? I found this little cocoon that I fit in and it works for me."

"And now you're ready to be a butterfly?"

"Maybe just a semi-social moth."

Melissa bit her lip to hide a grin. "Whatever works for you, honey."

Malia nodded and took a deep breath. "I think I should. I think… I _know_ that if I don't do anything, I'm just gonna be stuck, pining over him for the foreseeable future, and I don't want that. It…" She swallowed tightly. "It hurts and… I just want something for myself, you know?"

Reaching across the table, Melissa covered her hand. "I get it."

Malia sighed and offered a small, relieved smile. "Okay, well…" Clearing her throat, she waved a thumb toward the door and stood from her chair. "I should go. I just wanted to drop this off to say thanks."

"You're welcome. And Malia?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't need to feed me to talk to me." Melissa stared at her seriously. "I'm always here for you if you need me."

Malia's eyes stung enough that she blinked a few times. "Thanks."

Melissa nodded, before giving Malia the courtesy of looking away so she wouldn't feel so emotionally exposed.

While Melissa dug into her salad, Malia took her leave, making her way back through the hospital and toward the waiting room. As she passed Lydia and Jackson, she overheard the tail end of their conversation.

"You should get another cortisone shot right before the game, too. The pros do it all the time," Lydia said. "You want to be a little high school amateur? _Or_ , do you want to go _pro?_ "

While they started making out, Malia grimaced, and made her way toward Stiles, who was pretending to read a leaflet titled _The Menstrual Cycle_ while not so subtly observing Lydia and Jackson.

Scott appeared from the hallway and grabbed the leaflet out of Stiles' hands to get his attention.

Startled, Stiles gave a strangle cry and looked up, "Holy God!"

Malia came to a stop next to them. "Well?"

"The scent was the same," Scott informed them.

Stiles shoved up from his chair. "Are you sure?"

" _Yes_."

Stiles let out a sigh. "So, he _did_ bury the other half of the body on his property…" He turned to Malia. " _Told you_."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, excuse me for wanting _proof_."

Scott's brows hiked. "And now we have it."

Stiles nodded. "So, I say we use it."

"How?"

Stiles paused and glanced at Malia. "Okay, just… tell me something first, all right?"

Confused, Scott nodded. "Sure."

"Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play in the game, and he said you couldn't?"

Malia looked between them, a little surprised.

Scott took a deep breath. "There are bite marks on the legs, Stiles— _bite_ marks." He looked at Malia then. "You're right, Derek probably does know something. But, here's what I know. There's a body that smells like the one in the morgue buried in Derek's yard. He's the only other werewolf I've met since I was bit. He's purposely used you and Allison to lure me out. He's threatened to kill me. And he's _dangerous_ … I have to stop him. And everything else I need to know about this werewolf stuff, I'll find out another way. Until then, I have you two to help keep me under control. It's not perfect. But, I can't let him walk around free if he's seriously hurting people."

Malia flattened her lips and nodded. "Okay. You're right."

"Great." Stiles clapped his hands together. "Now that we're all on the same page, we're gonna need some shovels."

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _sooo, we explored the idea of anchors a little more this chapter. even though the characters don't know that's what they're looking for, they are inadvertently trying to find scott an anchor to hold on to. in that particular scene, scott says something important. ;)_

 _also got to see papa!tate this chapter. a few people have been curious about how his and malia's relationship would be explored. this is just a small glance at that. it will be explored more, but as malia mentions, he's been quite absent from her life, which is causing some frustration and resentment on her end._

 _and, there was technically a confession. even if she immediately covered it up. it still counts, right? :P_

 _i also said there'd be a lot more scott/malia in this chapter, so i hope it made up for what felt like a lack of it last chapter._

 _things to look forward to next chapter: grave digging, a confrontation, seriously intense scott/malia, and bed sharing. yayyy._

 _thanks for reading, please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	7. second chance 4

**word count** : 10,490  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under collections for one named after this story  
 **episode** : 1x02 - second chance at first line

* * *

 **VII.**

The trio camped out in Stiles' jeep, tucked away in the woods, waiting for a sign that Derek had left his house. There was no way they could go digging up his yard unless he wasn't there to catch them. Unfortunately, it took _hours_. Which was why it was no surprised when Stiles passed out, forehead stuck to the door window.

Malia was sprawled out in the backseat, an arm tucked behind her head.

Scott too was wide awake, staring through the trees to Derek's house in the distance. With a snort, he broke the silence. "You know what's ironic about this?"

She turned her head to see him. "What?"

"The night I was bit, I was gonna stay home and rest up for lacrosse try outs…"

Her brows hiked knowingly. "And right now you should be at home, resting for the big game."

Scott sighed. "Yeah."

"Hey, how do we know he doesn't know we're here…? Maybe that's why he hasn't left."

Scott shook his head. "His heartbeat hasn't changed."

She stared at his profile, mouth pursed. "You can hear his heartbeat?"

"Yeah. I can hear everybody's heartbeat if I really try…"

Malia hummed. "Do they sound different?"

He shifted in his seat to look back at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, how do you know it's Derek's heart and not like… some squirrel somewhere?"

He smiled slowly. "Squirrel hearts beat faster than humans. But I know it's Derek because of the location. I can hear his breathing and the stairs creak when he steps on them."

"But, if you can hear him, how do you know he can't hear you?"

"He seems distracted. I don't think he's expecting anyone to be out here this late at night… And his heart has been steady since we got here." Scott shrugged. "Anyway, I think if he knew we were here, he'd confront us."

Malia thought about it. Derek wasn't exactly subtle and had no qualms about letting them know how little patience he had for them. So, confronting them was exactly up his alley. "Makes sense."

Scott's mouth kicked up at the corner, but it fell shortly after. "Does it freak you out at all?"

"What? The super-hearing and stuff?"

He nodded.

Malia turned her eyes up thoughtfully. "Not in the way you probably think."

Scott's brow wrinkled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… It doesn't freak me out like I think _you're_ a freak. It's more like… I don't know what it means or where it's going and I don't like that." She stared at the dented jeep ceiling, listening to Stiles' faint snoring for a moment. "You remember when we were kids and we used to play that dumb superhero game?"

Scott chuckled. "Yeah. Super Stiles who had every ability you could think of, including making pizza appear out of thin air."

Together, they said, " _With extra pepperoni_."

Malia grinned. "I think it's like that. In his head, he's seeing what it was like then. All the crazy plans we'd come up with to save the day."

"We weren't saving anything. Most of the time, we just climbed trees and told stories."

"Because that's all they were then. All they _could_ be. Just stories." She sighed. "I'm not saying that getting bit by some jerk werewolf means that you have to throw on some spandex and start fighting supervillains. But, do you remember what your superpower was?"

Scott's gaze fell a moment and the corner of his mouth raised. "Healing."

"Yeah." She stared at him. "Maybe this is your origins story."

Scott frowned then, looking ahead once more. "That's when you're tested the most. And sometimes failure means becoming the villain."

"That's not who you are."

Scott opened his mouth to reply, but paused and sat forward in his seat. "He's leaving."

Malia sat up and leaned between the two front seats. Distantly, she could make out the tail lights of Derek's Camaro as he pulled away from the Hale house. They waited until they were sure he'd gone down the road before they jarred Stiles awake.

"What? Who? Where?" Stiles blinked wildly, throwing his arms around defensively.

"He left." Malia shoved his shoulder. "Come on. We need to get in there and start digging before he gets back."

Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, Stiles turned the ignition in the jeep. "He wouldn't just leave for a few minutes, right? I mean, he didn't take off to the corner store for a Yoo-hoo..."

Slowly, Stiles pulled his jeep out from its cover and parked it part way up the dirt driveway.

Climbing out, Malia moved around to the front of the jeep and leaned against it, staring up at the eerie, burned remnants of the Hale house. A shiver ran down her back and her stomach tied itself in a knot. "Hey, remember when we talked about coming out here during the _day?_ When it was _less_ creepy?"

Stiles shrugged and passed out the shovels. "Better coverage if someone shows up."

"From a _werewolf?_ " She shook her head. "You don't think that plan's a bit flawed?"

Scott frowned. "Guys, something's different…"

"Different how?" Stiles wondered, flicking on a flashlight and letting the beam travel between them.

"I don't know." He sighed. "Let's just get this over with."

Together, the three of them walked up the driveway to circle around the house. Between the cloudy moonlit sky, the looming house, and the rustling trees of the forest, it made for an eerie trek. Malia had never liked the feeling of being afraid. She was sure most didn't. But that unnerved feeling, stuck on edge, anticipating attack, made her whole body tense. Like a cat with its back up, ready to spit and scratch whatever appeared.

She felt something brush against her elbow and whipped her head to the side, only to find Scott had reached for her, his fingers lightly brushing against her arm. He gave her an encouraging look, even if he too looked a little uncomfortable with their surroundings. She nodded at him, half in thanks and half in mutual support.

Stiles hurried his steps and crouched next to where the ground was disturbed, like an unmarked grave. He put his flashlight down to light their way and then stood, shovel dug an inch into the dirt. "Good thing your asthma cleared up, huh buddy?" He grinned at Scott.

Rolling his eyes, Scott moved across from him, stuck his shovel down into the earth, and got to work.

Malia dragged her shovel over and joined them.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

An hour later, they'd dug up at least four feet of dirt and found _nothing_.

"This is taking way too long." Scott wiped his arm over his face and looked around nervously.

Stiles continued to dig. "Just keep going."

"What if he comes back?"

"A better question is why did he leave at almost five in the morning?" Malia looked between them. "Where did he go? And why didn't he hear us lurking in the woods?"

"All valid questions that I don't have answers to." Stiles shrugged. "Look, if he shows up, then we get the hell out of here."

Scott's brow furrowed. "What if he catches us?"

"I have a plan for that."

"Which is?"

Stiles paused, a hand on his hip as he panted. "We all run in a different direction. Whoever he catches first, too bad."

Scott shook his head. "I _hate_ that plan!"

" _Stiles_ should hate that plan." Malia pushed her hair back off her sweaty face. "You're supernaturally fast and I run track. He'd be werewolf chow."

"Hey!" Stiles complained, shoving his shovel back into the ground. "Don't underestimate my ability to— Oh, stop, stop, stop!" He held a hand out to keep them all still. "I hit something."

Malia's brows hiked. She looked from him to Scott and then down to the ground below. "Well?"

All together, the three of them tossed their shovels aside and then bent to dig out the last of the dirt with their hands. They found loose ropes tied around rough fabric and started to untie the knots.

"Hurry!"

"I'm trying." Stiles grimaced. "Did he have to tie the thing in, like, 900 knots?"

Each of them worked at undoing one of the ropes, before finally, they gave. Stiles and Scott pulled back either side of the fabric to reveal—

A furry head beneath.

Shrieking, the two boys leapt from the hole, but Malia stayed. Partly because she'd frozen in surprise, and partly because she recognized it wasn't a human body. But rather— "It's a wolf."

"Yeah, I can see that!" Stiles turned to Scott. "I thought you said you smelled blood, as in _human_ blood."

Scott shook his head and shrugged. "I told you something was different!"

Malia looked the wolf's body over. Its eyes were glazed and grey, dark fur was matted with blood and mud, and, strangely, it was severed right through the center of its torso.

Stiles frowned. "This doesn't make sense…"

Scott, both spooked over what they found and nervous that Derek could come back at any moment, told them, "We gotta get out of here."

"Yeah, okay. We'll just cover it up."

Malia still knelt in the hole, her fingers gently touching the wolf's ear. It smelled, there was no doubt about it. She was briefly reminded of her dad and his hunting trips. How he'd bring home a deer or an elk and carve it up to put away in the freezer. This felt different though. Wolves weren't generally hunted for food. But, more than that, why would a werewolf hunt a real wolf? And why sever it like the human body had been? Was it some kind of ritual or—?

"Malia?"

She looked up sharply, shaken from her thoughts. "Huh?"

Scott stared at her worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just… _thinking_."

"Guys…" Stiles pointed ahead, past Malia's shoulder. "Do you see that flower?"

Scott glanced at it and then stared at Stiles strangely. "Yeah, what about it?"

"I think it's wolfbane…"

Scott's brow wrinkled. "What's that?"

Malia pulled herself out from the hole and sat on the edge.

"Uh, haven't you ever seen the Wolf Man?" Stiles wondered.

Scott shook his head. "No."

"Lon Chaney Jr.? Claude Rains? The original, classic werewolf movie?"

Scott looked to Malia, who shrugged. " _No!_ What?"

Stiles sighed, before muttering, "You are so unprepared for this…" He left the hole then and walked to the flower. Gently, he reached out and plucked it up. As he did, a rope was revealed to be died around the roots. As Stiles continued to pull the rope up, it circled the grave, around and around in a swirl, which glowed a brief red as he broke the pattern.

Scott watched him go, his brow furrowed, but Malia had her attention on the wolf, which had slowly transformed.

"Scott…"

He looked at her and then down, and his eyes widened in shock. "Stiles…"

Naked and severed at the torso, was a dirt and blood covered woman, staring up at them from wide, dead eyes.

"Holy…"

Malia pushed up to stand and moved around to Scott's side, their shoulders bumping. She stared at the woman, almost ghoulish in her death, facial expression caught in a moment of shock and terror. She felt Scott's fingers brush her own before his whole hand swallowed hers and she squeezed.

Well, that was one mystery solved.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia was too wired to sleep. After finding the body, Stiles had called it into 911 and they were forced to go to the station to give their statements on what they'd found. Meanwhile, the sheriff's department had set up their version of a sting, waiting for Derek to return to the Hale house so they could arrest him. While Scott and Stiles decided to hang around to see him brought in, Malia went home to shower off the night and get a few hours' rest before the lacrosse game later that night. However, after getting home, and taking a ridiculously hot shower, she found herself wide awake.

She couldn't get the girl's face out of her head. Her eyes, big and wide and empty. Her mouth, slack-jawed as if mid-yell. And her skin, gray and swampy. Malia had watched her turn from a literal wolf into a woman. It was simultaneously fascinating and disturbing.

One would think, after the intensity of the night, Malia would crash. Instead, she felt like she was still running on high. Which was why she decided to burn off a little more of her energy. Stiles had texted her as soon as Derek was taken into custody, which suggested that the woods might just be murderer free, so Malia laced up her sneakers and decided a jog would help exhaust her enough to return home for a much-needed nap.

Plugging her ear buds in, she hopped off her porch and jogged toward the tree line, making her way toward a running path she'd long memorized. All she wanted was to drown everything out. Good and bad, she just wanted to forget the entirety of the last two weeks and soak up nothing but the smell of the trees around her and the noise of her music blotting out anything and everything else.

Malia made her way up to the ridge overlooking the town, the same one she'd last been confronted at by Derek. Today, under the warmth of the sun, she felt better about it. She still wasn't sure what to make of Derek. All signs pointed to him being a killer and he wasn't doing a good job of suggesting otherwise. But something about it just didn't sit right with her. She felt like she was missing something important.

Turning around, she decided to make her way back to the house. She was starting to feel the adrenaline wear off and the weight of the last day was dragging her feet. Still, she kept up a steady jog through the trees, passing a few runners as she went. It wasn't until she went off path to get back to her house that she felt it. Something, or someone, was watching her. Malia's heart sped up but she didn't change her pace. Depending on whether it was an animal or a person, it could take that as a sign to pursue her and she didn't want that. But she needed to come up with a plan and quick.

Her first idea was to shut off her music. At the moment, it was a hindrance. Reaching into the pocket of her jacket, she used her thumb to unplug her earbuds. The sound of the forest immediately filled her ears. A distant creek, birds chirping, foliage crushing underfoot. Beyond that, however, she could hear the snap of twigs under someone else. Someone picking up speed and coming her way.

Malia suddenly broke out into a run, racing forward and leaping onto a fallen log. She used it as leverage to push herself forward and ducked low to avoid a hanging branch. She could see her house through the dense trunks of the trees. So close, but so far. Pumping her arms at her side, she pushed past the burn in her thighs and the quick hammering of her heart. She just needed to—

Suddenly, a figure was in front of her, and it wasn't unfamiliar.

Yellow eyes, overgrown sideburns and eyebrows, and clawed fingers.

Malia stumbled to a stop, her hand on her heart. "Scott?"

It still struck her, how strange it was that it looked like him, beyond the wolf-like additions, but there was something distinctly less than human about him. The way he cocked his head and stared at her, his eyes eerily focused. A shiver swam through her that felt a whole lot like dread.

Swallowing, she held a hand out. "Scott, it's Malia… You know me, okay? You don't want to hurt me…"

He cocked his head the other direction and bared his teeth, his nostrils flaring.

Panic flooded her and Malia felt a fine tremble start growing inside of her, making her arms and legs and hands shake. "Okay, Scott, listen to me… You remember when you first turned? I brought you home and you freaked out, but we breathed through it. Focus on your breathing!"

He let out a huffing snort.

"Okay, not the breathing thing. But, what about Allison? Your first date. You— You _danced_." She stared at him searchingly. "Or before that. At the vet, when Shiloh was hurt. There was an eyelash on her cheek."

He lurched forward a step and Malia pulled back, a strangled cry caught in her throat. Never in her life had Malia imagined a moment when she would be afraid of Scott McCall, but this… This was it.

What had Derek said?

—" _The Scott you knew is gone. When he shifts, he's something else. He doesn't see people— he doesn't see you or your friends or his family. Until he's able to control the shift, he's just a loose, feral animal. And he will hurt people. It doesn't have to be intentional. It'll happen anyway_."

Maybe this wasn't Scott. Or maybe it was— stuck somehow, buried in his subconscious somewhere, unaware of what he was doing.

Malia closed her eyes in an effort to block out her fear and tried to think. Yesterday, when they were testing his trigger, he'd said what brought him back was everything. Her and Stiles and Allison and his mom. All of it combined…

"Okay, uh, Scott, you need to think of Stiles. O-of video games on Sundays. Of Star Wars and his really, _really_ bad Yoda impression. Think of last summer and playing lacrosse together. And when you were twelve and you dug out your dad's old suit and wore it to the cemetery to be there with Stiles on the anniversary of his mom's death."

She opened her eyes slowly and found that Scott had come closer, crossing half the space between them. Despite a very insistent part of her wanting to pull away, she didn't. "And your mom. Think of your mom, Scott. Working all those late-night shifts at the hospital, but she always makes time. She's always there. She's going to be there, _tonight_ , to see you play! Think… Think about all those terrible cookies she tried to make when we were kids and they always burned, every time. But, we ate them anyway. We'd just cut off the bottoms, remember?" She laughed thickly, her chest aching.

"Think… Think of…" Malia could feel the heat of his body against hers as he stepped even closer, enough now that if he wanted to, he could claw her face off. She met his eyes, still that unnatural yellow. For a moment, her mind went blank, but then— "You were wearing red when we met. This bright red t-shirt. And you smiled at me— a big, dumb, goofy smile— and I thought… How am I supposed to be friends with this dork? But… I was. I _am_." A tear slipped down her cheek that she blamed entirely on the overwhelming sensation of fear that had gripped her entire body. "You're my best friend, Scott. You've been there for every bad day since we met and you never flinched. And I used to be so scared… I used to think that I could n-never get close to anybody after my mom and Kylie, but then you and Stiles were there and you… You gave me hope. You made me feel like I had a family again. And you can't take that away, no matter what you do… You're always going to be my friend."

Scott stood toe to toe with her now. His hand raised and clawed fingers dragged down her cheek. But there was no pressure, no intent to harm— he just followed the path of a tear until he reached her jaw.

Letting out a shaky breath, Malia carefully raised her hands and pressed the tips of her fingers against his heart. "I know you can do this. I know you can hear me… Just come back, okay? Whatever triggered you, whatever you're scared of, we'll deal with it. You, me, and Stiles. _Together_."

He didn't answer. He didn't even move. But then, slowly, the hair receded from his face, his eyes cleared, and his teeth shortened. Sweating and dizzy, he stared at her, confused. "What happened?"

Malia let out a strangled breath. "Nothing. Nothing, you're okay." She hooked her arms around his waist and hugged him. "We're okay."

"Malia…?" He hugged her back, worried and panicked now, his hand cupped behind her head. "You're shaking…"

Malia squeezed her eyes closed and pressed against him, her chin hooked over his shoulder.

"Did I hurt you? Are you okay?"

She nodded, but buried her face against his neck to hide the tears that refused to be blinked away. "I'm fine." Her voice was little more than an emotional whisper.

Minutes passed. Scott's fingers were threaded in her hair, his palm warm against the nape of her neck. His other hand was rubbing her back soothingly.

Malia focused on steadying her breath; trying to bring her heartbeat down and keep her knees from giving out on her completely. Sniffling, she stepped back. "Come on. My house isn't far from here."

He stared at her searchingly, his brow furrowed.

Malia wiped at her nose with her wrist and tugged on the sleeve of his shirt. "It's been a long day. We haven't slept, we dug up a body, and we got a killer arrested. I'm _exhausted_."

He nodded and followed along beside her as she made her way through the woods to the dirt road that led to her house. She could feel his shoulder brushing hers and she wanted to say something. Wanted to dilute this intensity of the moment with something funny, anything to distract from what had happened. But she couldn't. She was entirely sapped. Instead, she asked, "Do you remember anything?"

"I… I was with Stiles. We watched Derek get arrested and then we were driving, headed home, but something was off. It was like I couldn't breathe and I was freaking out. Stiles— He sounded so… _excited_. And I don't know, I just snapped. It was like all he could say was that it was cool, you know? This werewolf thing. But it's not, or it doesn't feel that way. And then I found the rope and the wolfsbane in his bag. I think it was doing something to me 'cause the next thing I know, I'm shifting and I can't do anything to stop it. So, I ran…" He shook his head. "It gets kind of blurry after that. I was running through the woods and I was looking for something, but I don't know what… or who. And then you were there and… I heard your voice."

Malia nodded. "I did what you said. I tried to remind you of everyone you cared about. Everyone that mattered. And it worked. You calmed down."

Scott turned to look at her, expression twisted up. "You're sure I didn't hurt you?"

"You scared me… a little."

"I'm sorry." He reached for her, his fingers brushing her wrist. "Malia, I would never…"

"I know." She blinked quickly against the heat in her eyes. "Anyway, you didn't do anything. You were just… _intense_."

"Intense how?"

"The way you were looking at me… Just, your body language and this vibe I was getting. I don't know. It was weird." She sighed. "Anyway, this is good."

His brow furrowed. " _How_?" He pulled her to a stop just at the beginning of her driveway, kicking up little clouds of dirt. "From where I'm standing, none of this is good."

"But now we know it works! You just have to really focus. Remember your friends and your mom and… Allison." Malia nodded. "I'm not saying it's perfect, but… Maybe you play the game tonight and instead of tearing someone apart, you get to do something you love and… And then Lydia can back off and everything will be like you want."

"What if it's different? What if I get out on that field and I can't do it on my own? I've had you and Stiles before and the chains kept me from doing too much damage."

Malia looked past him, to the woods. "All I'm saying is that you _could've_ hurt me, but you didn't. You didn't have your control, but some part of you listened. It knew to stop."

Scott frowned. "Maybe."

They lingered there, the moment hanging between them, with a thousand things going unsaid. Until, eventually, Malia started backing up toward her house. "Come on. I'm hungry and you should get some sleep before the game."

He stared after her. "Is your dad…?"

"Truck's not here. He probably picked up a weekend shift." She turned on her heel and made her way up the porch. "We can text Stiles, let him know you're okay."

Slowly, Scott followed after her.

Malia sent off a quick text to Stiles to let him know Scott was okay before putting her phone away and walking into her kitchen.

Scott kicked off his sneakers at the front door and then wandered after her, hanging out by the edge of the counter as she pulled out bread and a frying pan. She found that the tension bled away the longer she focused on something simple. Heat the pan, butter the bread, unwrap the cheese slices, and check periodically so they didn't burn. It was simple, but it gave her something to do. She could see the same was true for Scott. His shoulders slowly loosened up and he started moving around the kitchen, getting out plates and paper towel and pouring them each a glass of milk. By the time they sat down to eat, she could almost pretend she hadn't just faced off against a possibly homicidal werewolf wearing her best friend's face.

Done eating, she dusted her hands off, knocked back the last of her milk, and took her plate and cup to the sink to quickly wash up, leaving them in the rack to air dry. Scott followed right behind her.

"Sleep," she decided, making her way to her bedroom. She could hear her his footsteps follow behind her and wondered if it was just in her head, how important this moment felt.

Shiloh looked up from where she'd been napping in her bed. Her tail wagged and she rolled herself over, splitting her attention between the two of them.

Scott lingered by the door, crouching to scrub his fingers over Shiloh's head.

Meanwhile, Malia dug a pair of shorts and a tank top out of her dresser to sleep in. She pulled the curtains closed on her windows before moving to her bathroom door. "I still have a pair of your shorts. They're in the bottom drawer."

Scott nodded and Malia disappeared into the bathroom.

As she undressed and pulled on her pajamas, she realized her hands were shaking. Moving to the sink, she turned on the water and filled her palms with it, raising it to splash her face. She tried to control her breathing when it seemed to increase against her will. The moment was just so vivid. She hated the idea of being afraid. Hated that she couldn't control it or the overwhelming sensation that was still swamping her. She wanted to tear it out of herself and stomp it quiet. But, it was there. _Hovering_.

Pressing her hands to her face, she breathed. In and out; she focused on her lungs expanding and deflating. When she was sure that her fear wouldn't show on her face, she made her way to the door.

Scott was sitting on the edge of her bed, elbows resting on his knees.

Malia tossed her jogging clothes in her laundry basket, flicked off the bathroom light, and made her way to the bed. She stripped back the blanket and sheet and crawled in on her side of the bed.

Scott remained where he was, examining his hands, his shoulders hunched.

She stared at the grey and black lines of his shirt, his hoodie laying in a crumpled heap on her floor.

"I don't know what I'd do," Scott said, his voice muted and quiet. "If I hurt you… If I _killed_ you… I'd never forgive myself."

Malia's heart clenched. She reached out and pressed the tips of her fingers against his back. "I'm okay."

"I know. But, what if—"

"Hey." She cut off him off before he could wander down a train of thought that led nowhere good. "Do you remember when we first met?"

"What?" He looked back at her over his shoulder, her forehead wrinkled. "Yeah…"

"I thought you were a dork."

Scott sighed. "I'm pretty sure you still do."

A faint smile broke across her mouth. "I pushed Stiles away a lot when we met. I really didn't want to be his friend. Or, I told myself that anyway."

"What changed?"

"He told me about his mom. How much he missed her and how things weren't really the same since she died, but that his dad was really trying, so he tried, too. I was going through the same thing with my dad and… It felt good to know that someone else got through it. That I wasn't some freak because I lost my mom and my sister. And that it was okay to be angry, to wish she was still there, to miss them as much as I did…" She turned her gaze upward, to the ceiling. "So, I gave him a chance and it worked. We got along okay and then he was introducing me to you and… You were so _nice_ and friendly and… I thought you'd hate me."

"What? _Why?_ "

"Because I wasn't nice. I was mean and angry and I had such a short fuse back then."

"You still do sometimes."

She snorted a laugh. "Yeah."

Scott shifted so he was facing her better, resting a leg on the bed while the other dangled to the floor. "Anyway, I knew you were just mad because of your mom and Kylie… Stiles told me ahead of time. And you weren't always mean or angry. Most of the time, you were just scared."

Malia looked at him searchingly.

Scott smiled. "I know what it's like to lose a parent. Maybe not the same way, but… After my dad left, I used to cling to my mom. I was so scared that one day I'd wake up and she just wouldn't be there anymore. That she'd leave too and it'd just be me, alone, in this big house… It took a while to figure out she never would. I guess I thought it'd be the same for you."

Her heart felt like it was beating both too fast and too slow; it was a strange sensation. "I was scared. I still am sometimes."

Scott nodded. "You know I'll never leave you, right? Me, you, Stiles… We're not going anywhere."

"Yeah." She blinked quickly. "Anyway, when we met, you were wearing this bright red t-shirt with some superhero on the front—"

"The Flash."

"—whatever. And I just remember thinking you were such a dork. But you were smiling at me so big and you were so friendly and nice and I thought for sure I'd do something wrong and Stiles wouldn't talk to me anymore and you'd hate me… Only, you didn't. Somehow, you became this really important person in my life. And when we were out there today and you weren't _you_ , I thought about that. About who you are and who you've always been… I'm not gonna lie, I was scared. I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life. But… I still had hope. That something would happen and you'd realize what you were doing and… I don't know. I guess it's dumb and naïve to think that you'll just _know_ , even when you're shifted, not to hurt someone. I know Derek says that it's like seeing red and you can't control it. But, something happened. Some part of you pushed through it." She shook her head. "I know it's scary for you, thinking that you might do something or hurt someone—"

"Not just someone. That's bad enough. But I don't want to hurt _you_." He stared down at her seriously. "You cried and you were shaking and _I_ did that."

"Scott—"

"No, just, listen…" He took a deep breath. "I'm not perfect. I make a lot of dumb mistakes and I don't always think things through. And the last thing I want is for you to get caught in the crossfire of that… Derek said something to me yesterday, about how you and Stiles are the most at risk because you're willing to be out there with me, to put your lives on the line to help me, and he's right. You are."

"But that's _our_ choice!"

"I know." He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "And I'm grateful. I really am."

"Scott…" She shook her head. "It's like you said, if this was reversed, you'd do the same things I am."

He nodded faintly.

"Can we get some sleep now?" She pushed the blanket up to invite him in and settled back against her pillows.

Scott shifted to lay down beside her and tucked his arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Everything was silent for a moment, nothing but the distant snore of Shiloh to be heard. She could feel the warmth of his body soaking into her skin. Her heavy eyes fell closed and she let the intensity of the last day wash away, sweeping her under and into sleep.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Scott woke, hours later. He was confused for a moment, unsure where he was. But then he caught a distinct smell— _wildflowers_. Malia's shampoo. His confusion bled away and he relaxed against the pillow. A part of him wanted to turn over and fall right back asleep, blocking out reality and all the complications it brought with it. But then he became all too aware of something hindering that. At some point, Malia had rolled over, her head resting on his chest, an arm tucked around his waist, fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt.

Rubbing a hand over his tired face, he stared down at the top of her head, her hair mussed and tangled. He reached for her, fingers gently drawing her hair off her face. When they were kids, having innocent sleepovers at each other's houses, she was always a blanket hog. Malia either ran too hot or too cold, there was no in between.

Guilt climbed up through his gut, tangled in his ribs, and choked his heart. He could have hurt her today. More than just 'hurt,' he could've killed her. He wasn't lying when he said he didn't think he could forgive himself for something like that. He knew he couldn't. These new abilities or powers or senses, whatever they were, they felt like a curse. As much as he liked aspects of it— being able to breathe freely and play lacrosse being the two biggest upsides— the downsides seemed so much bigger than that. At no point in his life could Scott say he felt like a _threat_. But now, every day felt like walking a tightrope, and if he fell, it meant landing on a crowd of innocent people and crushing them in the process.

Putting Derek away was the right thing to do, he knew that. He just wasn't sure what to do now.

Was he strong enough? Could he keep from snapping and shifting on the field? There were so many people coming to the game, his mom and Allison included. Could he risk their lives?

Was it selfish to say 'yes'? To believe that maybe he really had it under control. If he just used what Malia had shown him… Malia, who he'd faced off with in the woods, and who'd talked him out of a red haze of bloodthirst.

He didn't deserve her.

Sighing, he closed his eyes. If he focused, he could hear her heart and nothing else. Everything else just drained away, leaving nothing but the steady _thump-thump-thump_ in its wake.

The first time he met Malia, she glared at him. She was quiet and withdrawn and he thought she hated him. It took them a while to get used to each other, to accept that they were going to be friends, if only for Stiles' sake. But it wasn't just for Stiles. Slowly, Malia came out of her shell. She laughed and smiled and warmed up to him. Until one day, he almost couldn't remember the angry little girl that Stiles had befriended in a cemetery. In the years since, Malia still had her prickly side, but she was so much more than that. Strong and protective and endlessly loyal. He couldn't imagine his life without her and he didn't want to.

The buzz of his phone on the bedside table drew his attention and he reached for it. It was a calendar reminder that he had a game tonight, in a couple hours, in fact. And then he saw an old, unanswered text message from Allison— ' _hey, are you okay? you weren't in last block…_ '

He stared at it a long beat. And then looked down, to the top of Malia's head, and felt a stab of guilt.

Flicking his phone scree off with his thumb, he put it aside and dragged his hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a few minutes, he reached down. The tips of his fingers slid along the length of hers, curved around his side, and he carefully pulled them up, one by one, until they were no longer tangled in the fabric of his shirt. Slowly, he brought her hand up, until it was flat against his chest. Then, carefully, he shuffled out from under her, resting her hand against the pillow and pulling the blanket up, tucking it in around her shoulders. He searched her floor for his hoodie, finding it near the foot of her bed. Pulling it on, he zipped it closed and tucked his phone in the pocket.

But he didn't leave; instead, he lingered beside her. Highlighted in a dim blue glow, safe and completely at peace. Taking a step closer, he leaned down. He stroked her hair back from her face, tucked it behind her ear, and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. Grateful that she was there, that she was okay, and that, despite everything that had been happening lately, she was still exactly who she'd always been. Strong, loyal, and stubborn.

Crossing her room, he bent to pat Shiloh's head, and then slipped through the door, closing it quietly behind him.

Leaving the Tate house, he started down the dirt road, not entirely sure where he was headed. Home. The school. He didn't know. But he felt conflicted and confused. About Derek, this whole werewolf thing, Allison, the game, _everything_. He just needed to clear his head, and he hoped when he did, he'd know what the right thing to do was.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

When Malia woke, it was to an empty room. Or, mostly anyway. Shiloh was still with her, tail wagging eagerly for her attention. But Scott was long gone. His side of the bed was cool, giving her the idea it'd been a while. Checking the time on her phone, she realized she only had an hour until the game, and a handful of texts from a curious Stiles. Sighing, she pushed off the bed and made her way to Shiloh. "C'mon, Shi." Taking her outside to relieve herself, she texted Stiles while Shiloh used the lawn as her personal bathroom.

—' _hey, have you seen or heard from scott?_

Stiles wrote back immediately. —' _noooo. i thought he was with you!?_ '

—' _he was. but he was gone when i woke up_.'

Stiles sent back a few wolf and skull emoticons, followed by— ' _this is bad. it's bad, right? what if he wolfed out again?_ '

—' _i think he's getting better at controlling the shift. or at least coming back from it… still, we should find him_.' She chewed her lip. —' _maybe he'll just meet us at the game?_ '

With Shiloh done, Malia brought her back into the house and walked back to her room.

Stiles texted back—' _maybe. i'm hopping in the jeep now, see you soon._ '

With that, Malia started getting ready. After a shower, she dug out a warm sweater and some comfortable jeans. It was already pitch black out and she was sure it would cool down dramatically by the time she made it to the school. She was just pulling on her boots when she heard a horn honk. Grabbing her phone, she rushed out the door, passing her dad on the porch as she went.

"Where are you going?"

"Lacrosse game!" she shouted over her shoulder. Not waiting for a reply, she jumped into Stiles' Jeep. "Hey."

"Hey." He tapped his hands against the steering wheel and pulled out of her driveway. "Are we gonna talk about Scott's freak out and how you even found him?"

Malia shrugged and pulled her seatbelt on. "I texted you when it happened."

"You texted me _after_ it happened and basically just said 'found Scott, he's fine, explain later.' So… _explain_."

Malia sighed. "He shifted. Hair, teeth, nails, it was… weird."

"And he didn't attack you?"

She winced. "Not really…"

His brow furrowed. "What does 'not really' mean?"

"He didn't hurt me at all. I was trying to talk to him, but I wasn't sure he was really hearing me."

"Okay…" He looked from the road to her and back. "I'm gonna need more than that."

"It was just how he looked at me… _That_ was the threat."

"How'd he look at you?"

Malia paused a moment, the words heavy on her tongue. "Like I was _prey_."

Stiles turned to stare at her a beat. "How'd you get away?"

"I didn't," she admitted. "And I'm not sure I could have. I just talked him down. I reminded him of you and Melissa and Allison. And eventually, he just… changed back."

Stiles brow furrowed. "That's it?"

"Hey, if it works…" She shrugged. "I say we go with it."

Nodding, he rubbed a hand over his head. "Okay. We can use this at the game. It'll be fine."

"I hope so."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After Stiles ran off to join the rest of the team in the locker room, Malia found a seat in the nearly empty stands, under the glow of the stadium lights. She dug her book out as a distraction, but it wasn't long before her mind wandered back to the woods and the aftermath of their faceoff. There were moments where Malia had to wonder if she wasn't the only who felt something _more_. If she wasn't misreading a look or a touch or a moment that just seemed so _heavy_ with something that went unsaid. But then she reminded herself that Scott wanted Allison and any emotion-laden moments were probably being seen through her own crush-tinted glasses.

A busy bus of lacrosse players pulled up to the school; the opposing team unloaded and made their way out to the field, dressed in their pristine white jerseys. Soon, the parking lot was filled with family and friends, and the stands were quickly taken over. Malia left her bag in place next to her, saving a seat for Melissa, and summarily ignored everybody else. By the time the Cyclones made it onto the field, Melissa had just arrived. She waved at Scott, crossing the field with Stiles at his side.

Malia plucked her bag off the bench and waved Melissa over.

"Hey!" Melissa grinned down at Malia, taking a seat on the bench while she put her own bag by her feet.

"Hey."

"Excited?"

Malia mustered a smile. She was more worried than excited. Knowing that Scott was going out on the field only semi-confident in his ability to control his shift left her feeling nervous. "It'll be cool to see them actually play. Or Scott, at least. Is it weird to hope someone gets injured so they can tag Stiles in?"

Melissa snorted. "Probably not encouraged."

She shrugged. "Just a small injury then."

"Malia!" she heard.

Malia turned her head, searching the crowd, until she saw Allison, bag of popcorn in hand, walking just in front of her dad. She waved cheerfully and Malia raised her hand in return.

"Who's that?" Melissa wondered.

"Allison Argent…" Malia looked back at her. "New girl."

"You two are friends?"

"Kind of. Headed there, I think." She shrugged. "Scott really likes her."

Melissa paused and then turned curious, thoughtful eyes on her. With a gentle smile, she wrapped an arm around Malia's shoulders and hugged her. "Hey, what do you say to sharing a bag of popcorn? I haven't eaten since lunch and I'm _starving_."

Malia nodded. "Sure. You want me to grab it?"

"Are you sure? The game's about to start."

"It's fine. The line's short." Standing from her seat, she started in the direction of the concession, catching sight of Lydia threatening Scott on the field.

" _Scott—_ " Lydia yanked him toward her, until they were just inches apart. "—I just want you to remember one thing for tonight."

"Uhh…" He stuttered. "Winning isn't everything…?"

Lydia scoffed and then dusted imaginary dirt from his shirt before resting her hand on his arm. "Nobody likes a loser." With that, she patted his chest and sashayed away."

Stiles walked away from the scene shaking his head and caught up to Malia.

She raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be listening to Coach Finstock give some rousing speech on having a good game?"

"Have you _met_ Finstock?" Stiles snorted. "Anyway, I just wanted to talk to you. Turns out Scott ended up at Allison's. No idea why, I think he was just checking in with her, seeing if she was coming to the game. The important part is that her _dad_ ran him over."

Malia paused. " _What?_ "

"Yeah, hit him with his car and everything." Stiles nodded aggressively. "This is bad, right?"

"A _hunter_ hit him with a car and now he's casually playing lacrosse… _Yeah_ , it's a problem." Malia sighed and continued walking to the concession. "Is there no way to talk him out of this? I mean, this is a great excuse to get out of the game. He can just say he was a lot more sore than he thought he was…"

"I don't know, he's pretty set on playing. He says he wants to have a normal life and this is basically his way of proving he can have one." Stiles frowned. "Not much of a life if his new girlfriend's dad kills him, though."

Malia turned her attention to the vendor and ordered a bag of popcorn and a hot dog. While he put it together, she refocused on Stiles. "Just remind him that he can control it if he really tries and hopefully this night can end without any bloodshed." Taking her food, she started back for the stands. "And before I forget…" She grinned at him. "I'm cheering for you too, so try to get some field time, huh?"

Stiles smiled and rolled his eyes. "Fingers crossed." He veered away from her and toward the benches while she continued en route to Melissa.

Retaking her seat, she handed Melissa a hotdog, balanced the popcorn in her lap, and crossed her legs at the knee. "Good luck."

Melissa raised her hot dog 'cheers.'

Ahead, Stiles sat on the bench, nervously chewing on his thumb, while the rest of first line filled the field, with Jackson at the front, facing off against the opposing team's captain. As soon as the ball was tossed, the cheering went wild. Malia winced at the noise, but stayed focused on the field.

Scott ran along with the crowd, eagerly waving to the other players for them to toss the ball in his direction. In what seemed like a coordinated event, none of them did. She could see him slump in disappointment before continuing to chase the ball in whatever direction it went. When he spotted a chance to scoop up the stray ball, he hurried toward it only to have Jackson come out of nowhere to _purposely_ shoulder check Scott enough that he was thrown to the ground. A groan of sympathy went through the stands.

Melissa stood, a hand clasped to her mouth in worry.

"He'll be okay." Malia nodded, her eyes stayed on Scott, still sprawled out in the grass while Jackson took the ball straight to the net, scoring their first point.

Melissa tossed the wrapper of her finished hot dog and shared a look with Malia as the rest of the stands cheered and Coach Finstock shouted, "That's it, Jackson! Get fired up! _Fired up!_ "

"He's a dick," Malia said.

Melissa sent her a vaguely censuring look, but Malia merely shrugged.

"He _is_. Who hits their own team member?"

"Still… At least we're winning."

It started that way, at least. By halftime, the opposing team was sitting at 5 to the Cyclone's 3 and Scott, despite being open hadn't been given a single chance to catch a ball or sink it into the net. On the one hand, she was pissed on his behalf. On the other, at least it gave him fewer chances to get upset enough to shift.

Malia looked over to Stiles as the teams were making their way back onto the field, only to find him frowning back at the crowd. Following his gaze, she found Lydia and Allison holding up a sign that read: ' _We luv u Jackson_.' Her mouth twisted up. _Gross_. She looked to Stiles and they each rolled their eyes.

Malia frowned when she noticed some of the boys, Jackson included, huddled together. She noticed Danny's jersey—#6— and wondered what they were discussing, seeing as Scott seemed to be the only one not involved. Instead, he was on the outside looking in.

Finally, Jackson slapped his gloved hand against Danny's chest and the group split apart to retake their positions.

On the field, Scott glanced back at them, and Malia felt her whole body tense when she could've _sworn_ she saw the glint of gold coming from his eyes. She told herself it was just the lights, that it was hard to even make out his eyes through his mask, but a tiny alarm was going off in the back of her head and it refused to be ignored.

Scott was bent over his stick and Malia watched as a ref and a few players around him seemed to look at him strangely, even backing away. He was breathing harder, she could tell because it was cold enough that every puff of air came out in a white cloud.

On the bench, Stiles was fidgeting, twisting around in his seat and rubbing a hand over his face.

The whistle blew and the game was on. Malia watched the ball get thrown high into the air, before Scott was running forward, leaping right over two players heads, and catching the ball. He raced down the field, deftly ducking and weaving around the opposing team.

Melissa hopped on spot, beaming brightly, and clasped her hands together hopefully.

Scott swung his stick and Malia held her breath.

 _Score._

Another point was added in their favor and Scott had officially impressed everyone.

Melissa threw her arms high above her head and cheered.

A laughing Malia joined her, hands cupped around her mouth as she hollered, " _Whoo!_ Go, Scott!"

Below, Stiles stood from the bench, whooping. "Yes, yes!"

A few of Scott's teammates came up to congratulate him, while Coach Finstock started yelling, "McCall! Pass to McCall!"

A mixture of pride and worry built in Malia. She was happy he was finally getting the praise he deserved, but worried as hell that it was about to blow up in his face. "Stay calm," she muttered. "Just stay calm."

Malia watched as everyone returned to position. A whistle blew and the opposing team caught the ball, but #43 seemed to stop, staring in scared shock at Scott, before tossing the ball directly to him, and Scott took off down the field like a shot.

"Did… Did they just _give_ us the ball?" Melissa wondered, looking to Malia in confusion.

Malia shrugged. "Couldn't take the pressure, I guess…"

Scott scored a second goal, officially tying the game. While everyone else was cheering, Malia left her seat and moved closer to the field, her heart hammering. She looked down the way to Stiles, who shook his head uncertainly. Coach Finstock was arguing with the refs about whether it counted, since it had gone _straight through_ the lacing of the goalie's stick, suggesting it had _technically_ been caught.

"What? The ball's in the net. That's the goal of the game, isn't it? To get the ball in the net!"

Malia kept her attention on Scott, who seemed disoriented or distracted. She remembered what he'd been like in the woods, the unparalleled focus he'd placed on her. Was that what was happening here? His attention instead traded to the game and the ball?

The goal was ruled good and everyone retook their positions.

Malia crossed her arms, adrenaline pumping, ready to run ahead and intervene. But what could she do if that happened? Get in between a raging werewolf and whichever player he went after?

A whistle blew and Scott was moving. He caught the ball but stalled halfway down one end of the field, half bent over, and seemingly confused. The clock was counting down the final minute of the game. The opposing team was circling. And a nervous Stiles had stood, making his way down the line toward her, arms swinging wildly.

"What do we do?" she asked, staring at him searchingly.

"I don't know. Maybe he'll pull out of it."

She gritted her teeth and turned back to the field. If his senses were heightened, even more now than usual, then maybe he could hear her… "Focus," she said. "Stiles and Star Wars… your mom and burned cookies… Allison and the eyelash… Just breathe and focus."

Scott shook his head and then looked around at the players that were working up their nerve to make a move. Finally, they rushed him, and Scott swung his stick. The goalie attempted to catch it, but _missed_.

6-5 for the Cyclones.

The final whistle screamed and the stands followed, cheering madly.

Malia let out a relieved breath and turned to Stiles with a grin. "He did it!"

" _We_ did it! We won!" Stiles leapt in the air, arms raised above his head. "Yes! _Ye-e-es!_ "

Relieved, Malia felt a swooping sensation that made her knees shake. It was okay. He'd played, they won, and nobody got hurt. She turned toward Melissa to celebrate, sharing a hug.

The stands emptied out around them as people hurried to find their friends and family, to either comfort or congratulate. For a while, the field was a mess of bodies, making it hard to find anyone in particular.

Together, Malia and Melissa searched for Scott, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Where'd he go?" Melissa wondered.

"Uh… He's probably overwhelmed." She looked back at Stiles, who was talking to his dad by the benches. "I bet he ran back to the locker rooms, couldn't handle the spotlight. I'll go find him."

"Tell him to meet me by my car. I'll give him a ride home." She squeezed Malia's shoulder. "This was fun. Who knows, if he keeps this up, we might have a standing lacrosse game."

"Yeah, I hope so…"

As Melissa started toward the parking lot, Malia waved at Stiles. He left his dad and hurried toward her. "You'll never believe what I just found out!"

"After! I think Scott's having a freak out in the locker room. Come on…"

They raced toward the school. Since most of the team was still on the field, she was hopeful that Scott wasn't taking any leftover werewolf rage out on some unsuspecting janitor or something. She should've checked on him immediately. He was obviously having trouble handling everything. Maybe it was just too soon. After a late night and everything that had happened, it made sense that he was stressed out. She should've discouraged him from playing. Convinced him to sit it out…

They hurried down the hallway, shoes squeaking on the buffed floor, and pushed into the locker room. The lights were out, giving the room an eerie blue glow. The last time she'd been there, Scott was about to make Stiles into a very boney meal. It felt different this time. The tension of before was lost and she quickly realized why.

As they stumbled to the back, they found Scott and Allison wrapped in an embrace, sharing their first kiss in an empty shower.

Malia's heart tripped and climbed up into her throat, swollen and wrapped in barbed wire.

There was something sweet and tentative about how Scott's hand hovered before Allison's cheek, mouth ghosting over hers, slow and unsure, before gathering up his courage. A tender gentleness, as if she was spun glass and he had to be that much more careful.

A cold wave ran through Malia. She backed away, turning her gaze from the sight. It shouldn't hurt. Hadn't she realized that twice over by now? She had no right to feel hurt. Disappointment, maybe. But this felt different. A pins and needles sensation climbed the backs of her arms and she bit the inside of her cheek.

As Stiles took another peek, she grabbed at the back of his jersey and yanked him back.

"What? I was just…" He trailed off and then focused on her. Wincing, he shook his head. "Are you—?"

She nodded quickly, hoping to cut him off, and then she was backing up, until she reached the door. "Tell him about his mom. I have to go."

"Mal…"

But, she was already moving, trying to get as far away as possible. It occurred to her that, technically, Stiles was her ride home, but Malia needed a moment. So, she kept going, breaking out into a run part way down the hall. She wasn't sure what she was running from. Reality? Because that's what she was leaving behind. The all too real reminder that her feelings were so far from being returned. Not for the first time, she felt stupid. Every time she got her hopes up, every time she second guessed a moment between them, it was thrown back in her face. And she was so _tired_ of it.

Malia slowed down once she was out of the school, regret and humiliation swamping her. She just wanted to go home, curl up in bed with Shiloh, and seriously forget the last two weeks.

"Malia!"

Her feet slowed and she turned to see Danny jogging in her direction. "Hey. Good game tonight. Congratulations."

"Yeah, thanks." He grinned. "Listen, I know you were still iffy on the party, but I thought I'd see if you wanted to come. It doesn't start 'til later, but I can give you a ride home to get changed."

She raised an eyebrow. "What, my oversized sweater isn't proper party wear?"

He snorted. "I think you already know the answer to that."

Truthfully, the last thing Malia wanted to do was go to a party. She was hardly in the mood to play nice. But then, when was she ever? And this could be a new start, right? Wasn't she just telling Melissa that she wanted to start moving on her ability to socialize with others?

As if to add to her resolve, Allison walked out of the school, blushing and beaming. Back in the locker room, Malia was sure Scott mirrored her. Floating on cloud nine at this new development. Turning back to Danny, Malia nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Cool." He knocked a fist against her shoulder gently. "You're gonna be okay. You know that, right?"

She attempted a smile. "Sure."

"Come on. My car's this way."

Malia followed him across the parking lot, nodding along vaguely to something he was saying about the game.

"I'm gonna need you to give me directions to your place." Danny unhooked his bag from across his shoulder and put it in the trunk, closing it with a snap. "Ready?"

"Yeah. Just… Distracted."

"I get it." He rested his arms atop the roof of his car. "I've had my fair share of unrequited crushes."

Malia frowned. "We're not talking about Jackson, are we? Because you can do _way_ better."

Danny snorted. "No. Contrary to what _he_ thinks, he's not my type."

"Good."

He half-smiled. "He's not actually terrible once you get a chance to know him."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'll take your word for it."

"Okay, he's not _always_ terrible. He's just… I don't know. Complicated. Most people are. Not everything is how it looks and not everyone is how they seem."

Malia let out of a huff of a laugh. "That we can agree on."

He looked past her then, toward the school. "You're sure you're up for tonight? I know I keep telling you to get out and socialize, but if you're not ready…"

She turned her head and saw Scott and Stiles leaving the school, looking intense as they discussed something. A part of her wanted to bury it— the riot of feelings that had been nothing but a nuisance. She wanted to cross the distance and congratulate Scott on winning the game and getting the girl. But another part, a slightly jagged and entirely self-preserving part, told her that it was now or never. She had to sever that tie, before it irrevocably ruined a friendship she couldn't afford to lose.

Scott looked up and caught her eye across the distance. His brow furrowed, likely in curiosity over her and Danny. As much as she and Danny had grown closer through tutoring, this had never been her place. She might not care for the hierarchy or where she placed on it, but she was aware of it, and this— her, being personally invited by Danny— was a few rungs above where she landed on the ladder. But, something had to change.

"I'm sure." She looked away from Scott and pulled the passenger door open. Taking a seat inside the cushy car, she buckled her seat belt and took a deep breath. "You know, I've never played beer pong but I have a feeling I'm going to be awesome at it."

Danny shook his head, grinning. "Let's find out."

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _i should never write anything sports related; i feel like the lacrosse game seemed really awkward, but no matter how much i work on it, it doesn't seem to get better._

 _anyway, i hope the scalia scenes helped make up for it... at least until that end bit. whoops!_

 _things to look forward to next chapter: paaaarty; malia meets someone... **new**...; chemosignals; erica; and a nightmare._

 _thanks for reading, please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	8. second chance 5 - pack mentality 1

**word count** : 10,660  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : 1x02 - second chance at first line | 1x03 - pack mentality

* * *

 **VIII**

After getting changed at her place, Malia caught a ride over to Danny's to help him set up. He had a few friends out picking up more alcohol than seemed necessary, but seeing as this was only her second party, she could hardly judge. Ahead of time, she'd helped him put away anything valuable, lock doors to any room he wanted people to stay out of, and moved the furniture around for better lounging. A few tables were set up with drinks and snacks and one, in particular, for beer pong. The music was Danny's favorite; he spent a good hour going over what constituted a party playlist, adding and removing songs based on what kind of mood he wanted to set.

"You do this every time?"

He nodded. "Adds a personal touch."

"Sure." She nodded. "Something to jam to when you're vomiting in the bushes."

"Maybe at the neighbors. Nobody pukes in my mom's prize-winning roses. Heads will roll."

"I'm not sure drunk people have much concept of 'aim.'"

He grinned. "You'd be surprised."

Shaking her head, she muttered, "The neighbors must _hate_ you."

"They do, but it's probably the gay thing and the vomit is just a side benefit."

Frowning, she looked back at him from her seat lounging in an arm chair that was so ridiculously comfortable, she could almost take a nap. "Seriously?"

He grimaced. "Most people are fine with it. Coach Finstock brings it up a lot. I think it's his way of supporting me, but it has a bit of an othering effect."

"I get that." She nodded. "But the neighbors? What's their problem?"

"Ignorance, mostly." He shrugged. "It happens. You can't please everyone."

"You shouldn't have to." Brow furrowed, she turned in her seat and laid her legs over one of the arms. "Are your parents cool about it?"

Danny leaned back and stacked his hands atop his head. "My mom cried a lot when she found out. I'm her only son and I guess she had an idea of how things would go. My dad, though… He was really good about it."

"Yeah?"

He smiled. "Yeah, he keeps trying to set me up with his boss's son. He's pretty cute, actually."

"So, why not go for it?"

"I don't know. It'd be weird, don't you think?" He frowned. "My dad basically picking my boyfriend."

"He didn't _pick_ him, he just created an opportunity. If you guys click, cool. If not, then at least you know."

"I guess." He shrugged. "What about you?"

She fiddled with her necklace, pressing her thumb against the intricate metal until it left an imprint behind. "What about me?"

"Is there anyone you like besides McCall?"

She scrunched her nose up. "No. I like to think I avoid crushes. I've built up an immunity to them."

"Except for Scott?"

She sighed. "I mean, I've liked other people before." Begrudgingly. "But, Scott was different… Maybe it was because we were friends first. I don't know. It just felt more… _intense_."

Danny hummed. "He seems pretty into Allison."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't holding my breath… Or I didn't mean to, anyway. And now I'm definitely not."

He stared at her a long beat, brow furrowed. "I could introduce you to someone if you're interested. There are a few guys on the team that aren't complete jackasses."

"Thank you, but I think I'll just wing it. I'm mostly here to unwind anyway. I'm not looking to find someone."

Danny shrugged. "If you change your mind…"

"I'll find you."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

The party was loud. An hour into it and Malia was kind of regretting not shadowing Danny. Without Scott or Stiles or even Allison there to act as a buffer, she felt a little like she'd been tossed into the deep end of the pool and suddenly forgot how to swim. She recognized people, but not enough to go out of her way to talk to them. Malia didn't hate socializing, she just wasn't sure she was very good at it.

Lingering by the drinks table, she grabbed up a can of beer and walked around aimlessly, tapping her finger against the lid and awkwardly casting her gaze around for anyone just as lonely and uncomfortable as she was. Someone bumped into her from behind, sending her stumbling forward, and she glared over her shoulder. "Watch it, Greenberg."

With a goofy grin, Greenberg nodded at her, tucking his shaggy blond hair behinds his ears. "Sorry, Tate. My bad."

"It's fine," she muttered.

Saluting her, he walked off to join a few of his lacrosse buddies, only to bump a pyramid of red cups as he went. As it teetered and fell, a chorus of angry voices shouted, " _Greenberg!_ "

Rolling her eyes, Malia turned around, wondering if Danny was anywhere nearby. Last she saw of him, he was dancing with a cute boy she didn't recognize.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

With a sigh, Malia looked to her left, where Lydia stood, eyeing her. "Danny invited me."

Lydia scoffed. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." Malia raised an eyebrow. "What's with the face, Lydia? Shouldn't you be over the moon? The team won, even if it wasn't Jackson who got us there."

Lydia pursed her lips. "Jackson scored the first three goals all by himself."

"Yeah, well, if he'd learn to share the ball maybe the rest of the team could enjoy a taste of that, too."

" _Winners_ don't share."

"No, of course not, they just take cortisone shots before big games. Because _that's_ never seriously debilitated anyone's career..."

Lydia's eyes widened in surprise, but before she could snap back, a flash caught their attention.

Frowning, Malia looked to her right to find a boy with a camera, half-smiling at them. "Yearbook," he said.

"Erase that," Lydia demanded, taking a threatening step toward him. "The last thing I want is myself immortalized in a yearbook talking to _her_." With that, Lydia flipped her hair over her shoulder and marched away.

Malia rolled her eyes before looking back at the boy. "I'm pretty sure you'd get a few people in some serious shit if you were taking pictures of underage drinking and putting them in the yearbook."

He snorted. "You'd be right… You might call this more of a personal project. Sort of a time capsule. So, don't worry, you and Lydia Martin won't be immortalized in anything."

"Good." She tucked her hands in her pockets. "Does Danny know you're taking pictures?"

"Danny doesn't mind. Nobody else even seems to notice. That's kind of what happens when you're the photographer; you exist on the fringes."

Having spent most of the night feeling like she was doing exactly that, Malia nodded. "I know the feeling."

He juggled his camera into one hand and held the other out to her. "I'm Matt."

Malia took his hand and gave it a quick shake, reminded of when her dad introduced her to his coworkers. "Malia."

"You're a sophomore, right?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Same." He nodded. "Danny invited everybody from our photography club, but I think I'm the only one that showed…"

"There's a photography club?"

He shrugged. "Not all of us can be track stars."

Malia cocked her head, brow furrowed, but then Matt was looking at someone over her shoulder.

"Sorry, I see someone I know. But, it was nice talking to you." As he walked past her, Malia watched him go. He pivoted on his heel and snapped another picture of her, smiling before he left.

 _Weird_.

"Malia!"

She turned to see Danny waving her over, a ping pong ball in hand and a long table with ten red cups and one blue cup at either end. She smirked at the challenge and cut toward him.

"You're on my side." He motioned to the other end of table, where Jackson and Bodhi stood.

"Seriously, you wanna play with her?" Jackson snorted. "She's gonna tap out after two beers."

"Keep talking, Jackson." She crossed her arms. "Maybe all that hot air will help carry the ball to this end of the table."

He smirked and shook his head. "You're on, Tate."

Danny held the ping pong ball out to her. "You want first?"

"Sure." Malia eyed the cups at the end, weighed the ball in her hand, and then flicked her wrist to give her an idea of how well it would throw.

Jackson stared, brows raised impatiently. "You wanna test the direction the wind is going, too?"

Malia ignored him and let the ball sail. It landed perfectly inside the topmost cup of the pyramid.

With a sigh, Jackson picked it up, and raised it at her in cheers.

Malia smirked; she knew she'd be good at this.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Okay, so she was good at beer pong, but so was Jackson. For the record, she won, it was just very close. Which meant Malia was pleasantly buzzed and had traded in the beer pong table for the dance floor. She'd started out dancing with Danny, but he'd been stolen away by the cute boy from earlier, leaving Malia on her own. She didn't mind. She'd left her leather jacket on a chair somewhere and was happy to close her eyes and lose herself in the beat, arms stretched above her head. The longer the party went on, the drunker people became. There were more than a few passed out, or on their way there, and those that weren't were just as buzzed as she was.

Jackson and Lydia were sloppily making out in a corner. She was pretty sure Matt had taken off at some point; she hadn't seen him since earlier. Greenberg was asleep in an arm chair with a bunch of dicks drawn on his face. Bodhi was hitting on two girls at the same time— girls Malia was pretty sure were _together_ so he wasn't having much luck.

A layer of sweat covered Malia's skin when she finally left the dance floor in search of something to drink. Pushing through the swinging door of the kitchen, she bee-lined for the sink and filled a glass with water, leaning against the counter as she chugged it. For a moment, she just closed her eyes and tried to calm down. The music from the other room was muted now, muffled and distant.

"I don't think I know you."

Opening her eyes, she looked to the doorway, where a boy stood, smiling at her curiously.

"That makes two of us." Wiping at her mouth with her wrist, she put the glass in the sink.

"You know Danny?"

"This is his house, isn't it?" An open bag of Doritos called her name and Malia grabbed out a handful, popping one in her mouth.

"I saw you at the game tonight…" The boy nodded. "You're friends with McCall, right?"

She eyed him curiously. "Yeah. So?"

"He played a good game." He wandered closer, reaching over to steal a chip from her hand, grinning as she frowned. "I prefer basketball, but school pride and all that…"

Malia snorted. "My school pride goes about as far as I can throw it."

He ducked his head as he chuckled, his hair falling into his eyes. He was handsome, with high cheekbones and hazel eyes, an athletic build, and something tempting about the tilt of his mouth. "I like you."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't even know me."

"But I want to." He searched her face. "Twenty minutes. We talk, that's it. If you totally hate me, I'll walk away, never talk to you again."

"And if I don't?"

He shrugged. "Let's find out."

Malia took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "What's your name?"

"Cole. I'm a senior. I'm guessing you're a sophomore…?"

She nodded. "Malia."

"Malia," he repeated. "Okay."

"Well, Cole, what do you want to talk about for the next nineteen minutes?"

He hopped up onto the counter and rested his back against a cupboard, hands dangling between his legs. "You come to a lot of these parties?"

"No." She shook her head. "Parties aren't really my thing. But, Danny asked and I was having a shitty night, so…"

"Why?"

She stared up at him. "It's complicated."

"Most things are."

"Yeah, but this is a whole new level of complicated…" The guy seemed nice enough, but she wasn't about to tell him how strange her life had become these last few weeks. He was a complete stranger. Picking at her chips, she said, "Anyway, Danny asked me to come and I wanted to blow off some steam."

"You feel any better?"

She took a moment to answer, considering the last few hours. It hadn't started off great; she'd been awkward and unsure and had no idea who to talk to. Slowly, however, she'd found her footing. Beer pong with Jackson hadn't been the worst. Dancing had helped lighten the weight of everything. And now… Well, at the very least, Cole was nice to look at. "It hasn't really changed anything, but I feel better, yeah."

"Temporary fix then?"

"I guess." She finished her chips and dusted off her hands. The orange residue still clung to her skin so she turned to the sink, washing them under shockingly cold water. "What about you? Are you a regular at these things?"

"Since I was a freshman…" He nodded. "Doesn't feel as temporary if you're doing it every weekend."

Malia's brow furrowed. "What about the five days in between?"

Cole half-smiled. "You find ways to cope, I guess."

"School or family?"

"Little of both." He shrugged. "Basketball helps. Gives me something to do after school, something to focus on."

She nodded. "I run track."

"Yeah?" He grinned. "Maybe I'll come cheer you on someday."

She raised an eyebrow. "Who says we'll ever talk again?"

"A guy can hope."

Malia shook her head, a reluctant smile pulling at her mouth. "You've still got fifteen minutes, give or take."

He hummed and then hopped off the counter. "I propose a change of scenery."

Her eyes narrowed. "To…?"

"Out there." He nodded his head toward the door. "I like this song."

Her brows hiked. "You want to dance…?"

"If you do."

She considered it and then nodded. "Okay. Sure."

Malia followed him out of the kitchen and through the house. The farther they walked, the louder the music was, until they'd reached the center of it all. It was loud enough here that it blotted everything else out.

When they started dancing, there was a comfortable amount of distance between them. It was fun and friendly but nothing serious. As the music went on, though, they moved closer together. His hands found her hips and hers landed on his shoulders. She told herself this wasn't some kind of 'revenge' against Scott. But a part of her wondered if that was the root of her motivation. The closer she got to Cole, a relative unknown, the farther she could be from Scott and the feelings that wouldn't let up.

She closed her eyes and rocked into the beat, letting her body swim along with the tune. Stretching a hand back, she pulled her hair to one side and hung it across her shoulder. Cole's fingers brushed the bare half of her neck and her eyes opened, searching his out. She was attracted to him, that was easy enough to admit. It wasn't serious. He seemed nice enough, had a few problems of his own, but probably nothing on the level of werewolves. He was just a hot guy looking for someone to hang out with at a party. And Malia… She was tired of missing someone even when he was right next to her. It was like Danny said, and Melissa too, she couldn't force herself not to care, but she could find ways to distant herself from her feelings.

Malia initiated the kiss. She leaned forward and slanted her mouth over Cole's, her hand tucked behind his neck. He had nice lips, soft and warm. And he wasn't sloppy or handsy or aggressive. He took his time, teeth lightly scraping over her mouth, his hand leaving her hip to slide around to the small of her back, drawing her forward. They met, chest to chest, and she let herself fall into it. In a fog of heat and want and have, she pushed everything else away. There was just his fingers stroking down her shoulder and his mouth leaving hers to trail along her jaw. It had a dizzying effect. Her head tilted back and her teeth dug into her bottom lip. Their hips rocked together along with the music, circling and swaying. His teeth scraped against her neck, followed by his tongue, and Malia was glad for how loud the music was, since it swept away the groan she made. She could feel him smiling though, proud of himself.

Vaguely, she wondered if this was what Scott felt, or if it was deeper than this. It had to be, didn't it? He had real feelings for Allison. It was probably tender and sweet and hopeful, his heart pounding a little too hard in his chest. She could just imagine the gooey, lovestruck look on his face when they broke apart. Malia's fingers tangled in Cole's hair, pulling him back so she could catch his mouth again, a little harder this time, searching for something. Release or distraction or healing.

His hand swept up her back, the fabric of her shirt rising at the motion. They stumbled a little and broke apart, laughing. He grinned at her, his eyes a little glazed.

"You like me yet?"

She shook her head, but she was smiling. "You're growing on me."

"I can work with that."

They moved again, until her back was against a wall. It was cool against her bare shoulders, a nice contrast to her warm skin.

Cole reached up, tucking a strand of hair away from her face and letting his knuckles trail over her cheek. As his fingers fell lower, they traced the length of her necklace, pausing at the dipped neckline of her top. "How much time do I have left?"

He'd more than used up the original twenty during the time they'd danced. But she didn't feel like walking away, so she told him, "I lost track. I guess we'll have to start over."

A slow smile upturned his mouth and Malia matched it.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

It was almost two in the morning and Malia was sitting on the diving board overlooking Danny's pool, staring up at a starry sky.

She and Cole had parted ways an hour ago; he had her phone number if he ever felt like 'talking' again. It was a Band-Aid on a still bleeding wound, she knew, but it felt good.

"Hey."

Malia turned her head to find Danny standing nearby. "Hey."

He walked closer. "Having fun?"

She shrugged. "It wasn't the worst."

He half-grinned teasingly. "Pretty sure Cole James is gonna say it was one of the best nights of his life."

Snorting, she rolled her eyes. "He'll forget my name by Monday."

"Yeah, I doubt that…" Danny tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "So, you socialized and the world didn't end. That's a good sign."

"Is that your subtle way of saying I should come to more of your parties?"

"Only if you want to… It looked like you were having fun, though. _Eventually_."

"It wasn't the worst experience of my life." Leaning back, she tucked her feet under her and stood, making her way down the diving board. He held a hand out to help her down and she took it. As she landed on the dry pavement, he lifted her hand and twirled her. Malia laughed as she swung under his arm. "You might have a point, about getting out and experiencing life a little more. I'm not saying I'll come to every party, but I'll try to hang out more. Meet new people… Kiss a few boys. See what happens."

"Good." He nodded. "On that note, it's late. I've had a few drinks so I'm not super comfortable with driving you home. But I have a spare room, if you wanna stay over."

Malia shook her head. "Thanks, but I can walk."

He frowned. "Are you sure? You're not exactly close."

"I'll be fine." They made their way inside the house and her brows hiked at the mess. "You have a maid or something, right?" If the neighborhood was anything to go by, Danny's parents were like Lydia's— loaded.

"I hire a service, it's fine." He waved a dismissive hand and led her toward the front door. There were a few people still passed out on various pieces of furniture, including one curled up in the foetal position on top of the coffee table. "They usually wake up in the middle of the night and wander home. If not, I kick them out in the morning."

"As long as you have a routine…" Malia stepped out onto the front steps and pivoted to face him. "Thanks for inviting me… I needed it."

Danny nodded. "Thanks for coming. And hey… text me when you get home."

"I will." Turning on her heel, she walked down the stairs to the driveway below. Malia heard the door click closed behind her and dug her phone out of the pocket of her jacket to find a litter of missed calls and a bunch of texts from Stiles.

—' _hey, where'd you go? i was supposed to give you a ride home_ …'

—' _scott said he saw you hanging out with danny. i'm gonna try not to take that personally and chalk it up to emotional distress over the whole scott and allison… thing_.'

—' _can you just call me so i know you're okay?_ '

—' _okay i'm trying really hard to trust that you aren't dead in a ditch somewhere and you're just upset. i meant what i said before though. if you ever want to talk or anything_ …'

—' _look I kinda wanted to mention this to you in person but since you're not picking up and it's serious i'm just gonna tell you… my dad heard back from the medical examiner and they looked at the other half of the body. they determined the killer was an animal, NOT human. since derek's human, as far as they know anyway, they let him out of jail! And that's not the best part! worst part? anyway, they know who the girl is!_ '

For drama's sake, if nothing else, he added the name in a separate text.

—' _laura hale. it's derek's sister!_ '

Malia's chest squeezed. She stumbled to a stop and stared so hard at the words they blurred before her eyes. Then she read Stiles' last and most recent text.

—' _just be careful, okay? he's out and he's probably pissed at us_.'

When Malia looked up, it was to find Derek standing at the end of the driveway, leaning against his Camaro, hands tucked in the pockets of his leather jacket. She wasn't even surprised. It was just her luck. He pushed off the car, opened the passenger door, and then looked at her expectantly. As he circled around to the driver's side, Malia crossed the last of the driveway and shook her head. Maybe she wasn't as sober as she thought she was.

Climbing into the car, she pulled the door closed on her fate and turned to face him.

Derek turned the ignition and pulled away from the driveway aggressively, wheels squealing before they were darting forward enough that she was jarred in her seat.

"You don't look surprised to see me," he said.

Malia rested her head against the seat and turned her gaze in his direction. "Maybe I'm getting used to this lurking thing you do."

"Or maybe your friend Stiles used his ties to the Sheriff's department to find out I'd been released."

"It's a toss up."

Derek sighed through his nose, his mouth pursed. "Scott played."

"Yup."

"And he shifted."

Malia hesitated, before saying, "You'll notice nobody _died_ though…"

He turned a look on her that made her feel like a child that had been reprimanded. It was strange just how much he could pack into a stare. "Just because he handled it this time doesn't mean he always will."

"He's working on it. If he focuses on his friends and his family, he can keep from losing himself completely… Mostly…" She crossed her arms. "Does he remember anything when he's shifted? I mean, do you?"

"I don't shift unless I _want_ to shift." He turned narrowed eyes back to the road. "And he might remember bits and pieces, but not everything… Not until he has it under control."

Malia hummed thoughtfully.

"What were you doing at that party tonight?"

She frowned. "I'm sorry, _dad_ , am I supposed to give up any and all fun just because my best friend has a furry problem?"

"That's not what I meant…" His hands flexed on the steering wheel. "I can smell things. We call them chemosignals. They're chemical signals that communicate emotion. Just our sweat can give off anger, anxiety, fear— they all have a distinct smell. You were worried at the game, but it changed later. Something happened in the school. Something that made you sad… and hurt."

"You can smell pain?"

"Yes. But, what you were feeling was different."

Malia stared at the side of his face. "Are you saying 'heartache' has a smell...?" Could Scott smell these things? Could he smell her feelings for him and he was just being polite? Or maybe he could but didn't know what it was he was smelling… She was really hoping for the latter.

Derek grimaced, as if it pained him to discuss the topic at all.

"You brought it up," she sniped.

"I know. I just… can't believe I'm having this conversation right now." He glowered. "Heartache has a smell. So does attraction and desire and… love. But if you're worried Scott can smell it, you shouldn't be. He doesn't know enough about what's happening to him to figure it out."

She let out a breath of relief, but paused. "But he will?"

"Yeah, eventually. Once he starts paying real attention to it." He shook his head. "He can't keep avoiding what's happening and neither can you. Scott is a werewolf, nothing is going to change that. Not pretending it isn't real and not sending me to jail."

Malia winced. "Stiles said it was your sister… I'm sorry."

"Sorry you had me arrested for it or sorry she's dead?"

"Mostly sorry she's dead." She shrugged. "People don't usually bury their siblings in the backyard. And also, she was a wolf. I have a lot of questions about that."

"You think I owe you answers?" His voice raised incredulously. "After everything you guys did?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "Okay, I get that you're pissed, but try to look at this from our point of view. You're this angry, aggressive stranger that we _know_ is a werewolf and you pick and choose what you want to tell us. Scott gets bit after finding a severed body in the woods and then we find out you've buried half a body in your _yard_. I think we had a pretty good reason to think you were a killer."

"And yet, you still got in my car."

"Yeah, well, I had a little bit to drink tonight…"

"I noticed."

Turning to glare at him, she waved a hand. "This is what I'm talking about. Why can't you just talk to people like a normal person? Is it a werewolf thing? Because watching people from shadowy corners is frowned upon."

Derek rolled his eyes. "It's not a werewolf thing; it's a 'trying to stay under the radar' thing. Which I was doing just fine until you guys got me arrested and basically announced to the local hunter population that I was back."

"The hunters know you're a werewolf?" She stared at him curiously. "How?"

"I was born this way. Everyone in my family was. The Hales are well known in our community, which means that the hunters know about us, too…"

"And they don't like you?"

"They don't like any shifter." He sighed, sounding and looking exhausted. "That's why they're hunters."

"So, what, they just kill anything that isn't human…? How does that make them any better?"

"No, they have a code." He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking. "One they're supposed to follow, strictly."

"I'm getting the feeling they don't…"

He sent a withering look in her direction. "No. They don't."

"Okay, so, now that they know you're here what are you going to do?"

He shook his head. "Survive."

Malia frowned. "That's it? That's your plan?"

"I had a better plan before I was exposed. But I can't just pack up and leave, I have things to do."

"What kind of things?"

He sighed. "You ask a lot of questions, you know that?"

Malia snorted. "Two weeks ago, I didn't know werewolves were real, let alone that my best friend would turn into one. Of course I have questions."

Derek didn't respond, instead he took the turn off that led down the road to her house. "What I'm dealing with is dangerous. Too dangerous for a group of teenagers to start nosing around in it. And definitely too dangerous for you to be walking home at night at two in the morning."

Shifting in her seat, Malia faced him, her brow furrowed. "Scott thinks you keep reaching out to me to threaten him. That you do all these things, showing up like you do, your cryptic talk, warning him through me, because you want to know how easy it is for you to get to me."

Derek looked at her, any expression carefully masked. "What do you think?"

"As much as you need to work on your social skills and quit with the bread crumb hints… I think you're genuinely worried he'll hurt someone. Which doesn't really fit with the killer theory."

He hummed, but neither agreed nor disagreed.

"Why me, though? Why not Stiles? Or just go to Scott directly, without the violent threats?"

Derek pulled up to her house and cut the headlights. "Because Scott isn't willing to hear me and Stiles is the Sheriff's son."

"Is that the only reason?"

He frowned, his brow furrowed in a knot. "No. But I don't have a clear answer why yet."

"Yet?"

Sighing, he turned an exasperated look on her. "Contrary to what Scott thinks, I'm not here to hurt any of you. And if I did, I'm sorry…" His gaze fell to her arm meaningfully. "It's no excuse, but I was frustrated and I guess I held on too hard."

Malia shrugged. "It's fine. Doesn't even hurt."

"Still." He cast his gaze ahead, expression muted once more. "You're more fragile than you think."

"I'm pretty sure that was an insult…"

What could almost pass for a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "An observation."

"Yeah, well, if they keep going in that direction, you can keep them." Malia reached for the door handle. "If you want some advice, talk to Scott… He's just as afraid he's going to hurt someone as you are."

"If he was, he wouldn't have played."

"That's really easy to say when you grew up in a family that could teach you how to control that part of you. Scott was thrown into this and the only person who seems to know what's happening is a shady stranger he thought was a murderer." She looked back at him. "I can't always be your buffer. I'm doing what I can to help him, but I'm not a werewolf."

He stared at her a long beat before saying, "No. You aren't." His tone was strange and Malia was starting to feel the effects of the night set in on her.

"Thanks for the ride." She pushed the door open and climbed out. "And sorry again for digging up your dead sister and getting you arrested."

He stared up at her. "You have no tact, you know that, right?"

She shrugged. "It comes and goes."

With a sigh, Derek flicked the headlights on. "Be careful."

"My house is literally _right_ there."

"I'm not talking about getting home."

When he didn't say anything more, Malia closed the car door and walked up her driveway, all the while muttering to herself about breadcrumbs and dramatic werewolves.

Making her way inside, she used the light of her phone screen to guide her through the living room. The last thing she needed was her dad to come out asking questions about where she'd been and what she'd been doing. Closing her bedroom door behind her, she flipped the light on and kicked off her boots. She hung her jacket up in her closet, laid her necklace on her dresser, and traded in her party clothes for a comfortable pair of pajamas. Picking up a sleepy Shiloh, she carried her over to her bed to lay down beside her.

Sending a text off to Danny to let him know she was okay, she then focused on Stiles' many unanswered and worried texts.

—' _hey, sorry, i was at danny's and didn't see these. i'm fine. he just invited me to a party and i decided to go. no big deal_.'

She hesitated to tell him she saw Derek, but considering she was supposed to be more honest with both him and Scott about Derek and his lurkiness, she chewed her lip indecisively. Stiles had been adamant that they work on the enigma that was Derek and this werewolf problem together and she'd agreed, which made up her mind.

—' _i saw derek… i talked to him. he saw scott play and he wasn't happy, said we got lucky_.'

A little bubble popped up to show Stiles was responding. —' _and you're okay? he didn't do anything?_ '

—' _nope, just wanted to talk. apparently, now that he's been arrested the hunters know he's here and he's not happy about it.' She sighed. 'it's a long story. I'll tell you everything tomorrow. i'm really tired_.'

A nerd emoticon appeared, followed by —' _that's what you get for partying until 2 without ME_.'

Malia smiled. —' _i know, i'm the worst. i'll bring you next time, promise_.'

—' _so there's going to be a next time?_ '

She thought about it, beginning to end, and had to admit that, overall, she had a pretty good time. —' _i think so, yeah_.'

Three worried emoticons appeared. —' _you're not trading me in for danny are you?_ '

She sent him back a grinning emoji. —' _i'd never trade you in. you're stuck with me._ '

He sent her three hearts.

Malia sent him three ghosts.

—' _get some sleep, party girl. we'll talk tomorrow_.'

—' _okay. night!_ '

—' _night_.'

Malia was about to put her phone away when it buzzed once more, this time with a message from Scott. —' _are you awake?_ '

A cold drip fell from her chest into her stomach. She could just imagine where that conversation would go. He would tell her all about his kiss with Allison, wanting to share this huge moment in his life with best friend Malia. Only she couldn't do it. Not now. It was too much. So, she put her phone on the end table and she turned out her lamp. Rolling over, she wrapped an arm around Shiloh, kissed the top of her head, and willed herself to sleep. Maybe tomorrow she would have the courage to talk to him. Maybe tomorrow, the Band-Aids holding her fractured heart together would do a better job.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia wouldn't call how she was feeling a 'hangover,' exactly, but she had a headache that wouldn't let up and her mouth tasted like dishwater. Which was why she was walking up and down the aisles of the corner store in her comfiest sweatpants and a pair of sunglasses, filling a basket with Aspirin, Gatorade, and frozen burritos. Ramón ran everything through with a knowing smile. Malia saluted him before she walked outside, wrist weighed down with a bag.

On her way toward the road, she spotted a shock of yellow hair out of the corner of her eye. Glancing over, she found Erica sitting at a peeling picnic table, books spread in front of her.

Malia pivoted and walked toward her. "Hey." She took a seat on the opposite side of the table and pulled out one of her Gatorades.

Erica half-smiled, looking surprised that Malia had joined her. "Hey… Long weekend?"

"I learned a valuable lesson about beer-pong." Digging out the Aspirin, she unscrewed the cap and sighed. "It's only fun when it's happening."

Snorting, Erica said, "I'll take your word for it."

Knocking pack two pills with a swig of Cool Blue Gatorade, she grimaced and wiped at her mouth with her wrist. "How was your weekend?"

Erica shrugged. "Worked, mostly. I'm trying to catch up on my homework in between."

Malia's gaze fell to the books spread in front of her. "Spanish?"

"Yeah. I saved it for last, since I'm semi-fluent."

"Semi?"

"I grew up around it, so that helps. But, my parents work a lot and school was always in English, so it's a mixed bag." She tapped her pencil against her book. "I saw you at the lacrosse game last night."

"Oh yeah?" She raised an unenthusiastic fist. "Go Cyclones."

"Is that why you were playing beer pong? There was an after party?"

"As I hear it, there's a party if they win or not." Malia shrugged. "Mostly I went to drown my sorrows."

Erica's brow furrowed. "Oh. Anything to do with the guy in the Camaro?"

Malia's head cocked. "You're observant."

"More like nosey." Erica shrugged. "There's not a whole lot to do around here but people watch and study."

"Makes sense." Malia pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and rubbed the heel of her palm against an eye. "Anyway, he wasn't the problem…" Derek was part of a problem, obviously, just not the one that sent her running toward a party. "Boys just suck."

"Yeah?"

"No. Well… Yeah. Some of them." She shook her head. "Crushes suck. Love _definitely_ sucks."

"I wouldn't know." Erica frowned. "I'm unpopular, I have acne, and I have grand mal seizures. People aren't exactly lining up to date me…"

"Yeah, well, fuck them." Malia shrugged. "The people you want to hang out with aren't gonna care about any of that stuff. I mean, why do you want to be popular?"

Erica's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, what do you get out of it? What's so great about it?" Malia had never understood the appeal. "I know popular people. I wouldn't call us friends. Well, maybe one of them. But the other one… All she cares about is how other people think about her. That's gotta be _exhausting_."

"I just want friends." Erica's shoulders sunk. "I don't want to be laughed at."

"You don't need to be popular for that. Just look for people you actually like. People you can talk to. The right kind of people protect you. And the ones that laugh… They're assholes that don't deserve a second thought."

Erica's lips flattened. "That's really easy to say when you're…" She waved a hand, " _you_."

Malia paused, taken off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means… You're pretty. You run track. You have two amazing best friends. You hang out with people like Danny Mahealani and Lydia Martin—"

"I don't ' _hang out_ ' with Lydia. We have a mutual friend, so we put up with each other."

"What's the difference?" Erica stood, angrily pulling her books together. "I wish I didn't care. I wish I didn't have to think about what other people think. But, I do! Because I don't have anybody. I have this shitty job and no friends and I spend every day worried I'm going to have a seizure and piss my pants in front of the entire school! It's not that easy for all of us." With that, she marched off, her frizzy ponytail bouncing at her back.

Sighing, Malia stared after her. Grumbling to herself, she flicked her sunglasses back on and grabbed up her bag. Making her way to the road, she started back to her house, all the while turning over everything Erica had said. Because as much as she didn't want to admit it, she might be right. Malia knew she was lucky. Even if things were awkward with Scott right now, she had him. He and Stiles would always have her back, no matter the circumstances, just like she would have theirs. And sure, the recent werewolf issue was a downside, but they were working on it. In comparison to Erica, she did have it easy in a lot of ways. And maybe telling her to get over it was short-sighted. Erica was only fifteen, with a mom that clearly prioritized school and popularity. In contrast, all Malia cared about was her dad, her friends, and her dog. Life wasn't perfect— not by a mile— but maybe some people had it a little harder.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

That afternoon, Malia wandered around her kitchen, throwing together a sandwich for dinner.

"How was the game?"

Malia looked up, surprised to find her dad hovering by the fridge, arms loosely crossed.

"Uh. It was good." She licked some mustard off her thumb and shrugged. "We won."

"You were out pretty late…"

"Yeah." She winced. "Sorry. A few friends wanted to hang out and celebrate."

"Who drove you home? Didn't sound likes Stiles' jeep."

"Just a friend. Completely sober, I promise." She closed her sandwich and used a knife to cut it in half. "Allison's going to be here in a little while. We're going to study at her place. I have an English essay I want to get a head start on."

Henry nodded. "Good. That's really good…" He shifted his feet, his gaze set on the floor.

"Was there something else…?"

Clearing his throat, he looked up. "Look, you're getting older, and I know you want your privacy and I respect that. But, you're just sixteen and… boys, they expect things. So—"

"Oh my God." Malia's eyes widened. "We're not having the sex talk."

He grimaced. "I don't like this anymore than you do, but—"

"No, seriously. _Stop_." She held a hand up. "Look, I wasn't out having sex. The guy that dropped me off is just a friend. If you even want to call him that." She shuddered. "I went to a party with some friends. I danced and hung out and it was nothing crazy. I lost track of time, that's why I got in so late. _Really_."

"Even so…" He scrubbed a hand over his head. "When your mom was your age, she had a boyfriend. Wasn't me. Another guy in our class. It was the eighties, you know? Big hair, spandex, probably too many drugs…"

" _Dad_ …" She stared at him. "Please, stop."

"She isn't here to have this talk with you and I might mess it up, but we need to talk about safety and- and peer pressure. Some boys, they aren't thinking with their heads… In fact, no boys is. And that includes those guys you run around with. So—"

Malia groaned, her shoulders slumping. "Melissa McCall is a nurse. She sat me down when I was thirteen and told me all about periods, hormones, condoms, birth control, and consent. So please, stop making this awkward for both of us."

Visibly relieved, Henry let out a heavy sigh. " _Oh_. Well that… That's good. I'm glad to hear that."

"Yes. Now… can I go? Because I don't feel like I can look you in the eye and I want to scrub the last five minutes from my mind."

Henry let out a snort. "Go ahead."

Malia hurried past him, sandwich in hand, and bee-lined it for her bedroom."

"Mal?" he called after her.

Grimacing, she paused, but didn't look back.

"I just want you to be safe. And I don't just mean with… sex. I mean… Boys can be cruel. They say what you want to hear and then they break your heart. I don't want that for you."

Malia's shoulders loosened up. "It's okay, dad. I know. You don't have to worry about me."

"There's no off switch for that, honey. I'm always going to worry."

A small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth before she shook her head. "Still actively forgetting all the sex stuff you said."

He chuckled under his breath. "Me, too."

Malia continued to her room then, closing the door behind her and letting out a heavy sigh.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Later, Malia sat on Allison's bed, pillows tucked behind her back, a binder in her lap, and a blue highlighter stuck between her teeth.

"Okay, I can't help it." Allison closed her book and wiggled her eyebrows. "Tell me about Cole."

Removing the highlighter, Malia sighed. "Shouldn't we be working on this essay?"

"Come on… The essay's not due for a while anyway. This is just a prep session to see what we want the topic to be." Allison sat up at the end of the bed and pulled her hair into a ponytail, using the elastic off her wrist. "We can take a few minutes to talk about this obviously hot party make out…"

Malia scrunched up her nose. Earlier, when Allison had asked her to come over, Malia figured it was a good way to get over the awkwardness she was feeling from Saturday's game and witnessing Allison and Scott's kiss. Much as she wanted to completely bleach her mind of it, there was no way to truly avoid the fact that her friends were dating. And, well, that was what Allison was now— a friend. She wasn't on the same level as Scott or Stiles, but Malia did like her. Enough that she was spending her Sunday getting ahead in English. Or she was, until right now.

"I don't know what you want me to say…" Malia shrugged. "We talked, we danced, we made out…"

Allison rolled her eyes. "Do you like him? Do you think you'll hang out or even just make out again? _Details!_ Tell me something."

"I don't know. I mean, it was fun and he was all right… But, I'm not going to write sonnets about it or anything."

Allison cocked her head. "How cute?"

Malia laughed. "Really cute."

"Yeah…" Allison grinned.

"Yes! Now, can we get back to doing this essay? The sooner we focus, the sooner I can get it done and never think of it again."

" _Fine_. But I want you to point him out to me at school tomorrow. In fact, why don't I pick you up?" She stared at Malia hopefully. "I know you usually get a ride from Stiles, but it's nice to switch it up, right?"

"Uh, sure." Malia nodded. "And I'll point him out, but only if you don't make it into a thing. It was a party, we were both drinking, I wouldn't be surprised if he completely forgot about it."

Allison frowned skeptically. "Sure he did…"

"Homework." Malia grabbed up her highlighter. "Which topic are you planning to do? We can get an outline put together at least."

Agreeing, Allison turned her attention to the assignment description and Malia breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Much as a part of her wanted to talk about Cole, another part was worried it might open a door to a conversation she didn't want to have. Namely, the one where Allison described her no doubt 'epic' kiss with Scott. Malia was trying to be cool with it; she just wasn't sure she was at that level of okay just yet.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After Allison dropped her back at her place, Malia put her focus on the rest of her homework. She was just closed her math book when a little alarm let her know Stiles was trying to Skype her. She tapped on his name and smiled. "Hey."

"Hey! How was Allison's?"

"Good." She shrugged. "How was all-day video games?"

Stiles grinned. "Awesome." He leaned back in his chair. "I was a little worried that all this werewolf stuff might get in the way of just hanging out, you know? But, it was kind of cool to forget about everything for a day."

"Have you heard anything more from you dad about Laura Hale?"

"Not really." He shook his head. "It sucks, because I still think Derek did this but he's going to get away with it."

Malia frowned. "You seriously think he killed his own sister?"

"We don't know what werewolves are like, not really." He fiddled with a pen on his desk, flipping it over and over between his fingers. "For all we know, this is normal in werewolf packs."

"Pretty sure that would defeat the purpose of _having_ a pack…" She sighed. "I didn't get that vibe from him last night. What if he's just a victim in all this, too? You said his family died in a fire. What if his sister was all he had left?"

Stiles glowered. "Please tell me you aren't sympathizing with him… _Malia_ …"

"I'm surprised you're not."

He scoffed. "With a _murderer?_ "

"Alleged murderer. And we both know what it's like to lose a parent. Imagine tacking on the rest of your family…" Malia's brow furrowed. "I don't know. I just think there's more to it."

"Ah, the great werewolf mystery…" He tossed the pen away and sat up, stacking his hands on his desk. "He say anything else to help piece it together?"

"He said it was dangerous. But so far, all of this is dangerous."

Stiles nodded. "True." He paused then, gaze wandering away. "Speaking of… Scott's been asking about you. After he saw you leave with Danny, he seemed pretty confused."

"Yeah, well, hanging around to talk about his and Allison's kiss wasn't high on my priority list." Malia rolled her eyes. "I'm happy for him, but I needed some space."

"Do you _still_ need space…?" He stared at her searchingly. "He's gonna notice if you start pulling away and he's going to have questions. Especially after what happened in the woods."

"I'm not afraid of him. That's not what this is about."

"Yeah, but he doesn't know that." Stiles sighed and rubbed a hand over his hair. "Look, I'm just saying he's been a little off. Guy kisses the girl of his dreams, but he's distracted and worried instead of celebrating."

"Because he thinks Derek's a killer and he's out on the loose. Not to mention we got _said_ alleged-killer arrested."

"Well, he seemed to forgive you pretty quick, maybe he'll do the same for us." Frowning then, he said, "What's up with that, anyway? Why is he always going to you?"

"I asked him that and he said it was because Scott won't listen and your dad's the Sheriff…" She shrugged. "Doesn't exactly make it easy."

"Yeah… Not to mention you're crazy enough not to run in the opposite direction when he shows up."

Malia snorted. "Whatever. Anyway, he offered to help Scott again and I think he should hear him out. We can go with him if you're worried. But at some point, Scott needs to find out more about this werewolf stuff and we're not exactly equipped for it."

"Yeah, but trusting _Derek?_ "

"What if he's not the killer?"

"He still bit Scott!"

"We don't know that for sure." She stared at him, her brows raised. "I just think we could avoid a lot of confusion if we'd let him explain his side of things. It doesn't mean he's right, but it could give us more to work with."

Stiles pressed his lips flat. "I'm not sold on it."

"Can we at least make it an option and not veto it immediately?"

"Fine. It's on the table."

" _Thank you_." Sighing, she crossed her arms. "Enough about Scott and werewolves. How are _you_ doing?"

"Struggling to focus at school, worried about my dad's heart, worried about you and your complete lack of self-preservation skills… Still a little pissed I didn't get an invite to last night's party…" His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I think that's about the gist of it."

"I already told you I'd bring you to the next one. Anyway, I only saw Lydia a few times. She was either insulting someone or making out with Jackson. Danny was great, though. We partnered up for beer pong and beat Jackson. And…" She paused, wondering if maybe she should leave Cole out of it. It wasn't like she was planning on searching him out on Monday. It was a party fling; there and gone. Still, she kind of wanted to tell Stiles. It wasn't the same as it was with Allison; Stiles wouldn't want to compare notes on who was a better kisser, Cole or Scott. "I met someone."

Stiles' brows hiked. "Met someone like… you _like_ someone?"

She shrugged. "It's nothing big. We just hung out for a while…"

"That's it?"

She looked away.

"That is not it?" He leaned forward eagerly. "Did you hook up with someone?"

"We made out."

"What!?" He grinned, but it fell a beat later. "Wait, is this a good thing? Are you rebounding? Is it still a rebound if you never actually dated? _Whatever_. Is it serious, not serious, casual, what?"

"It was a party…" She shrugged. "It wasn't anything to write home about. He's just a guy. Plays basketball."

"What's his name? Do I know him?"

"I barely knew him. I think I've seen him around school, but I don't really watch basketball."

Stiles' brow furrowed. "So, he's on the team then, right?"

"Yeah."

"Is that all you're going to give me?"

Malia sighed. "You're freaking out a lot more than I expected, so, yup."

Stiles deflated. "Come on! I can't be excited for you?"

"We made out at a party, Stiles. I'm not marrying him."

"It'd have to be a pretty serious make out for _that_ …" Stiles grinned. "I'm happy for you, though. I mean, even if doesn't turn into anything. Whatever makes you happy, I'll support."

Malia nodded. "I know." She stared at him seriously. "You know you can talk to me too, right? About school and your dad and whatever else you're dealing with…"

"Well, you know me. I prefer a constant state of anxiety to actually _talking_ about it."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "And when you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Stiles stared at her, saying sincerely, "Yeah, I know."

"Good."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

 _They're at the school, pushing through the doors and racing, hand-in-hand, across the wet asphalt of the parking lot. Allison giggles._

 _"Come on."_

 _"Where are you taking me?"_

 _Scott leads her to a bus, one of a few lined up next to each other. "Somewhere we can be alone."_

 _She laughs. "We are alone…"_

 _They come to a stop in front of the bus door, his back pressed to it and her standing in front of him. Her smile is wide and warm and her cheeks are flushed pink. "Somewhere we can be more alone." He pulls the door open to the bus and looks back at her. "Come on." He leads her up the stairs and down the aisle, the seats empty and a cool blue tint to everything, nothing but the glow of the street lamp outside to show their way. They walk nearly to the back before he turns around to face her and then slides into a seat. She takes a seat across from him, mimicking his pose, her legs stretched along the chair, her gaze warm and teasing._

 _Scott licks his lips as he grins and pulls himself down the seat. He pushes forward, crossing the space between them, and kneels on her seat. His hands brace on the seat in front of her and the back of her seat as he leans down. She tilts her chin up to meet his kiss. His eyes fall closed and he sinks into it, the soft, warm touch of her lips against his. Her fingers are cool against his neck, brushing against his ear and combing through his hair._

 _His heart starts to race, pounding in his chest, and he feels it as his claws form, tearing open the seat. He pulls back, his brow furrowed, and feels his whole body tense; every muscle growing taut._

 _"What's wrong?" Allison whispers, her hands wandering down his chest._

 _Scott pulls away, bent over in the aisle, his shoulders hunched. He's out of breath and he can feel the rippling sensation of 'the shift' pulling at him. "Get away," he tells her._

 _"Scott?"_

 _He turns to face the other chair. He can feel his teeth elongating, eyes a ghoulish gold, and hair growing along his cheeks and sprouting from his eyebrows. He wants her to leave, to run, before he can do something. Before she sees what he really is._

 _He hears movement behind him, assumes she's standing, and tells her again, "Get away from me."_

 _The voice that answers isn't Allison's._

 _"Scott, look at me." It's firm. Unafraid._

Malia.

 _He raises his head to face her, his vision tinted red, and shakes his head, blinking quickly. "Wha…? What are you doing here?"_

 _"You need to focus…" She stares at him searchingly. "You can fight this. You've done it before."_

 _"I c-can't. It's too strong." He groans and drags his hands down the top of the seats, shredding the fabric open. In an instant, his restrain is gone. When he raises his head, he's lost to the instincts of an animal out for blood._

 _Malia backs up, but she keeps her eyes on him, her lips pressed together in a flat line and her brow furrowed._

 _A slow building growl leaves him and he bares his teeth at her._

 _He can hear her heart skittering, but she doesn't run. Doesn't scream or cry or even attack him._

 _"You don't want to do this. I know you don't…"_

 _But, he does. Or some part of him does, and he's helpless to it._

 _He digs his claws into the seat and launches himself toward her._

 _Malia is quick; she drops to her knees and crawls under him. When he lands, he pivots around to face her._

 _"You can fight this. I know you're scared, but you just have to think." She backs up, until she reaches the emergency door, and feels around to grab at the handle._

 _Scott's head cocks, his eyes narrowing, and he walks toward her, sniffing at the air. She's afraid, even if she doesn't look like it. It's an acute smell; it stings his nose. The animalistic part of him enjoys it._

 _Scott leaps at her again, but she darts to the left. She climbs over the top of the seats, but they're too far apart, and it slows her down. He pulls a seat up from its hinges and throws it. Bouncing, it slams against the chairs, the roof, and eventually the front window of the bus. Malia leaps into the aisle and hurries toward the front, attempting to climb over the mangled chair to reach the door. But it's blocked, leaving her stuck there with him._

 _He stalks toward her and listens to her heart reach an impossible height._

 _Finally, she turns to face him, her teeth gritted in a snarl and her eyes damp. He can smell the salt of her tears._

 _Instead of running, she turns to face him, her hands balled into fists, and then she runs at him. Whether to knock him over or to attack, he isn't sure. As soon as she's close enough, his hand wraps around her throat and squeezes. He lifts her up, enough that her legs dangle and her feet kick. She claws at his hand and his wrist, tearing them open with her short, blunt nails, but he doesn't flinch._

 _He pulls her forward, until they're inches apart, and he drags his nose over her cheek, breathing her in. Wildflowers and fear and salt. A tear falls and his tongue catches it. A rolling growl leaves his chest as he meets her eyes and she glares, even as she chokes, her face turning an angry red._

 _"Isn't— y- ou—" she chokes out._

 _His claws glide down her cheek, leaving three lines of blood in their wake._

 _And then he throws her. Like a rag doll, she flies through the air, crashing against the door at the back and toppling to the floor. He marches toward her as she rolls over— bloody, bruised, and coughing. He grabs at her ankle and pulls her down the aisle until he's hunched over her, an arm raised above him, nails still dripping with her blood._

 _She clutches her neck and stares up at him, stubborn as ever. "I trusted you."_

 _His hand comes down with brutal efficiency; warm blood sprays across his face._

 _She never screams._

.

"Wait, you licked her tears?" Stiles squinted at him. "Seriously?"

"Not _me!_ " Scott sighed. "The wolf."

"Okay, but you know you _are_ the wolf, right? You're not separate identities."

His shoulders slumped. "It feels like we are."

Stiles pulled open the door to the school and stared at him, wide-eyed. "Okay, so, dream-wolf killed her though, right?"

"I _think_ so. I woke up after the first swing, but… there was so much blood. There's no way she would've survived that." He shook his head and tucked his thumbs in the straps of his backpack as they walked down the hall. "When I woke up, I was sweating like crazy and I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before."

"Really?" Stiles brows hiked. "I have. Usually ends a little differently.

Scott frowned. "A) I meant I've never had a dream that felt that real and b) _never_ give me that much detail about you in bed again."

Stiles blew out a sigh. "Noted. Let me take a guess here, though—"

"No, I know." Scott shook his head. "You think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow, like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out."

"Well, yeah, that, but that's not all of it." Stiles stared at him. "I mean, if that was the only reason, then why do you think she turned into Malia?"

Scott's shoulders tensed and he looked ahead, focused on the floor. "I don't know."

"Dude, seriously? I mean, after what happened in the woods and just about every time you've shifted, _Malia's_ been there." He reached over and slapped the back of his hand against Scott's chest. "Of course you're worried she's going to get caught in the crossfire… But hey, come on, it's gonna be fine, all right? Personally, I think you're handling this pretty freakin' amazingly. You know, it's not like there's a lycanthropy for beginner's class you can take."

"Yeah, not a class, but…" An idea sparked, even if it wasn't one he particularly _liked_. "Maybe a teacher."

Stiles stared at him incredulously. "Who, _Derek?_ Are you forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?"

"You don't know what it felt like." Scott grimaced. "I mean, chasing her, attacking her like I did. She didn't even really fight. She was so sure I wouldn't hurt her. What if that happens in real life? It felt so _real_ …"

"How real?"

"Like it actually happened."

They pushed through the doors to the back parking lot, en route to the lacrosse field, only to find themselves staring at the bloody back end of a bus, the emergency door torn half off its hinges.

Scott's eyes widened and his mouth fell ajar.

Stiles reached for him, a hand on his shoulder. "I think it did."

Scott turned to stare at him, a cold rush of complete and utter horror filling him to the brim.

 _Malia._

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _so, malia met two new people. matt the photographer is definitely matt daehler of season 2. and cole james is an oc. i'm sure there are a few of you who don't like him on principal alone, which i can understand, lol. he's just meant to be here as a good time. a few people have hoped malia would have a love interest that might 'cause some jealousy and he'll certainly stir the pot, whether intentionally or not. ;)_

 _obviously less scalia this chapter, but there's a ton to make up for it in the next one. the italic bit was scott's nightmare from pack mentality, changed a bit to better fit his frame of mind and what's been happening. but the aftermath of said nightmare is great for some scalia closeness. :)_

 _there was also some papa!tate attempting to parent in this chapter. i appreciate his effort, plus it was amusing to write. and i couldn't help a nod to nurse!melissa who i'm sure have had a few talks with these kids about puberty, sex, etc._

 **things to look forward to next chapter** _: scalia goodness, a ton of friendship, scott finds out about cole, malia gets a date, and scott finally asks derek for help._

 _thanks so much for reading, please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	9. pack mentality 2

**word count** : 11,330  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : 1x03 - pack mentality

* * *

 **IX.**

 _Six years_. That was how long Scott had known Malia. A ten-year-old girl with a chip on her shoulder that could've eclipsed the sun. But, it didn't. Over time, it shrunk. Light filtered through, revealing a scared little girl that needed and wanted friends. In the years that followed, Scott talked to her almost every day. Every good, bad, and terrible part of his life was shared with her. He was tethered to her, as much as he was to Stiles. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think of her. Of something he wanted to tell her, something that would make her laugh or smile or roll her eyes. To imagine a day, a week, a _life_ without her in it was just… impossible. Even with how strange and complicated things had become lately, she was there. She was _always_ there. And he couldn't wrap his head around the idea that she might not be. That he might've _hurt_ her…

Scott stared at the bloody, torn up bus, his vision swimming, and his heart pounding so loudly that it blocked out everything else, until—

"Malia!" Stiles pulled his bag off his shoulder and started frantically searching for his phone.

"Why didn't she get a ride in with you?" Scott shook his head. "You haven't heard from her today?"

"She texted me last night that she was getting a ride from _Allison_." Stiles pulled his phone out and immediately dialed Malia's number, putting it on speaker for them both to hear. "Come on, come on, pick up…"

It rang through to her voice mail— ' _Hey, this is Malia. Leave a message and I'll get back to you whenever_.'

"Shit, shit, shit." Stiles hung up and dialed again. "Maybe she's just busy, right? There's no way that you actually… I mean, you _wouldn't_."

They hurried back into the school, thinking to search the halls while they continued to call them. Maybe they were busy. Maybe she forgot her phone or it was dead or she just turned the ringer off. Maybe she was at her locker, completely unaware of what was going on. _Maybemaybemaybe_. But, she had to be okay. Right? There was no other acceptable alternative. Because he wouldn't… He _couldn't_ hurt Malia. He… He wasn't capable of that. It was _Malia_. And she was—

"It was a dream, Scott. You said it started out Allison and became Malia—" Stiles shook his head. "Why would either of them be there with you?"

It was logical. It made sense. But a hollow part of Scott just wasn't sure.

"Maybe the beginning of the dream was different. Maybe that was just my subconscious trying to cover up what really happened." Scott dialed Allison's number and held his phone to his ear, listening to it ring through. "I could've called Allison or Malia and asked them to meet me here. Something could've happened and I was triggered. I don't _know!_ But, there's a bus covered in blood and I think I did it, Stiles." His heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice and his lungs stung like they used to when his asthma would kick in. "What if I hurt her? What if I _killed_ her?"

"Which 'her' are we talking about?"

"Does it _matter?_ "

"Honestly, _yeah_. A little. No offense to Allison, I barely know her, but _Malia?_ " He stared at Scott seriously. "She's my best friend. She's like an angry older sister that always threatens to beat me up. Only we're the same age and the most she's done is sock me in the arm."

"Call her again." He pointed at Stiles' phone while he redialed Allison's number, searching the faces around him for any sign of the girls. As much as he was listening to Allison's phone ring, unanswered, he was listening to Stiles' phone, too.

 _'Hey, this is Malia. Leave a message and I'll get back to you whenever.'_

 _'Hey, this is Malia. Leave a message—'_

 _'Hey, this is Malia—'_

 _'Hey, this is—'_

 _'Hey—'_

Scott squeezed his phone so tight he could feel it begin to whine under the pressure. He blew out an unsteady breath and loosened his grip. "She's not picking up. Neither of them are. What if I did this?"

"It could just be a coincidence, all right?" Stiles nodded. "A seriously amazing coincidence…"

"Just help me find them." His head swiveled from side to side. As his heart rate picked up, everything around him started to blur together. Faces, bodies, walls— it was all a distorted mass of confusion. "Do you see them?"

"No. And Malia's still not picking up. I'm gonna glue her phone to her hand after this. I bet she turned the ringer off, because of course she did. It's not like we live in a town with werewolves and recently released killers out for revenge or anything. No, wouldn't want to plan for _that_." Stiles chewed on his thumbnail. "You would've stopped, right? If it was Malia…" He grabbed Scott's shoulder, pulling at him so they were face to face. He stared at Scott searchingly, unable to mask the fear peeking through. "You couldn't really hurt her, right? Scott!"

"I can't— I can't breathe." Scott pulled away and abruptly lurched across the hall. He bent his head against a locker, trying desperately to control his breathing. Sweat beaded on his skin, his lungs burned, and his body tensed, every muscle coiled so tightly that his limbs _ached_. "Star Wars, burnt cookies, eyelash…" He gritted his teeth. "Star Wars, burnt cookies, eyelash."

Stiles stood next to him, checking that nobody else was paying attention. "What're you doing?"

Scott closed his eyes and repeated it, over and over again. A mantra to try and calm himself down.

 _Star Wars, burnt cookies, eyelash._

 _Red shirt._

"Red shirt. Red shirt. Red shirt."

His voice slowly gave away, until he was just mouthing it to himself.

Slowly, his breath came back to him, but the anxiety remained. A prickly sensation across his skin. And then, a sound.

Scott raised his head. _Thump-thump-thump_. Brow furrow, he turned on his heel, eyes darting around searchingly. He stumbled down the hallway, following it, the only distinct sound he could make out. Everything else was a distant rushing noise.

 _Thump-thump-thump_.

He twisted and turned, blinking wildly, until—

He knocked into a person and his vision focused.

 _Allison_.

Her books fell from her hands, clattering to the floor, and she laughed.

Scott stared at her a beat, shocked and dizzy, and then looked to her side.

A gust of air left him and his hand raised, pressed flat against his hammering heart.

 _Malia_.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia frowned at Scott, who was staring at her with wide eyes, his mouth ajar. He looked like a _dope_.

"You scared the hell out of me!" Allison tucked her hair behind her ears, crouched down while she picked up her fallen books.

Malia joined her, grabbing a binder and a notebook before she stood, stacking them atop the ones in Allison's hands.

"You're okay." Scott's voice was low as he looked from Allison to Malia and back.

"Once my heart starts beating again, yeah." Allison tipped her head, eyeing him curiously. "What?"

"I- I'm just happy to see you."

Allison smiled, her cheeks flushed pink.

Malia shifted her feet awkwardly and searched for Stiles. She knew he had to be around there somewhere; he and Scott had planned to come in early to get in a quick lacrosse practice before class. Maybe he was still in the locker room…

The speaker suddenly rattled to life then, drawing her eye. "Attention students, this is your principal. I know you're all wondering about the incident that occurred last night to one of our buses. While the police work to determine what happened, classes will proceed as scheduled."

A collective groan went up from surrounding students, but Malia only frowned. What the hell happened to a bus that it was worth talking about?

Malia's attention was diverted, however, when Allison reached out and scrubbed her fingers through Scott's hair affectionately. "Save me a seat at lunch?"

He nodded jerkily. "Yeah."

As she walked past him, she turned back, saying to Malia, "Don't forget. Find me at break."

Malia half-smiled. "I will."

She grinned as she walked away and Malia looked at Scott. "Are you okay? You're acting weird."

Rather than answer, he stared at her, swaying a little, as if lost in a trance. And then he was reaching for her. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't the tips of his fingers grazing her cheek with gentle uncertainty. It was a ghost of a touch, barely there, but Malia felt her heart stutter. Scott's touch fell lower, lightly brushing along her neck, his thumb pressing a little harder than the pads of his fingers. Despite herself, Malia shivered. A tingling sensation shadowed his touch, goosebumps flashing over her chest and across her shoulders.

"I thought…" He shook his head, blinking quickly.

"There you are!" Stiles rushed toward them, knocking against Scott's shoulder as he passed him before he was grabbing Malia up. He banded his arms around her in a hug and squeezed.

" _Ow!_ " Disgruntled, she frowned at him. "What the hell?"

Letting her go, Stiles put his hands on her shoulders and stared at her. "We thought you were _dead_."

She glared, completely confused. "I'm not even late."

"I called you!" He yanked her bag off her arm and searched through it, digging her phone out and turning the screen in her direction. "Do you see this? Huh? _Twelve_ missed calls!"

Malia shook her head slowly. "I guess I didn't hear it. We were singing along to the radio. _Loudly_."

Stiles let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "We are having a werewolf _crisis!_ Do you understand that?" He tapped his foot impatiently. "How are we supposed to know that you didn't just get snatched up by Derek Hale and buried in his yard?"

Rolling her eyes, she snatched her phone back and shoved it in her bag. "I have no idea what happened that you're having a freak out, but try filling me in and maybe I'd take you a little more seriously."

"I killed you," Scott said, his voice distant and cracked.

Looking back at him, her brow knit. "What are you talking about?"

"I- I had a dream. You, me, Allison, we were on a bus and… I shifted. I attacked you and I…" He winced. "I clawed your throat open."

Malia swallowed tightly, a chilly sensation filling her stomach. "It was just a dream."

"Not exactly…" Stiles puts his hands on his hips and stared at her grimly. "The bus out back is torn up, covered in blood…"

She snorted, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "And you think _Scott_ did that?"

"Why else would I dream about it?" Scott shook his head, his face falling mournfully. "I hurt someone."

His words rung in her ears like a punch to the gut.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia had a pencil behind her ear and another in her hand as she took notes in math class, intermittently glaring at her teacher for forcing her to learn any of what he was teaching. Truth be told, her mind was elsewhere. Stuck on that brief moment in the hallway, when Scott's fingers had gently swept across her cheek and down her neck. It was _slightly_ dampened by the fact that he had a dream where he ripped out her throat… Maybe more than slightly. But, it was a dream. It didn't have to mean anything more than that he was afraid of what he could do when triggered. If they could just get that part under control, then he wouldn't have to be afraid.

A sharp knock echoed against the door and she jumped in her seat, jarred from her thoughts. The pencil behind her ear fell to her desk and then rolled off the edge, clattering to the floor. As she leaned out of her seat to pick it up, she heard a voice—

"Hey, Mr. Matthews, uh, is Malia here? It's an emergency."

Matthews' voice was dry. "What kind of emergency requires _you_ to deliver it?"

"Uh…"

"You can wait until break, Mr. McCall."

"No, wait, please! I—"

The door closed with a snap, cutting him off.

Malia sat up in her seat, glanced at the window of the door, where a pleading Scott was staring back at her, and then rolled her eyes. "I have to go to the bathroom." Standing from her desk, Malia moved to the door.

Matthews stared at her through narrowed eyes. "I haven't given you permission, Miss Tate."

"Unfortunately, my bladder doesn't take requests." She looked back at him, brow raised.

With a sigh, he waved her off, and then returned to the lesson at hand.

Malia made her way into the hallway, closing the door behind her. She crossed the hall toward Scott, who was pacing in a misshapen circle. "What happened?"

He stopped where he stood and whirled on her, his expression twisted up with worry. "They found a body!"

" _Shhh!_ " She glanced at the classroom but when no one came back, she turned back to him and frowned. "When? Where?"

"I don't know. I think it was in the woods. I just saw them wheeling him toward an ambulance. I thought he was dead but then he freaked out and started screaming. He was really torn up and covered in blood." Scott let out a choked sigh. "Malia, I did that."

"You don't know that."

"But I do!" He stared at her searchingly. "I attacked someone in that bus last night. I thought it was you or Allison or maybe my head was just trying to fill in the blanks. _I don't know_. But, I know I was there. I can _feel_ it."

"Scott…" She reached for him, her fingers wrapping around his forearm and squeezing gently. "He's alive. So, whatever you did, you didn't kill him."

"But I could have."

"I don't want to downplay the seriousness of this, but let's just take this one step at a time, okay…? A guy is hurt and you think you were there. But you also aren't the only werewolf in town. Maybe this isn't as cut and dry as you think."

He frowned, his brow wrinkled. "You think Derek did this?"

She shook her head. "I'm not saying that."

He groaned. "Of course you aren't…"

 _Wait, what?_ "What's that supposed to mean?"

Scott scowled. "That you keep defending Derek and I don't know _why_."

"I'm not defending him. I'm trying to piece all of this together and I don't think we have all the facts yet." She rubbed her thumb against his arm. "Listen, we can figure this out."

" _How?_ Either I did this and someone got hurt or I didn't and Derek is terrorizing the town. But we have no way to prove it because what do you want to bet that any evidence will come back as another _wolf!?_ " He tipped his head back and groaned. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Hey!" She caught his chin and pulled it down so he would meet her eyes. "Freaking out isn't going to solve anything. Maybe it was you or Derek or someone else completely, but we need to find out."

Taking a deep breath, he nodded slowly. "How though?"

"The only other werewolf we know is Derek. And he's made no secret that he wants to keep you from hurting people, _so_ …"

He grimaced. "So, I have to talk to him."

She shrugged. "If you want answers, yes."

His shoulders slumped. "What if I don't like what he has to say?"

"Scott… I'm not saying you didn't do this. But, it's over now. The only thing we can do is make sure it doesn't happen again."

He stared at her searchingly, before nodding. "Okay."

"Okay." She let her hand fall from his chin then, hanging limp at her side. "You were pretty freaked out this morning."

"When I saw the bus outside, I really thought I did it. I thought…" He swallowed tightly. "You didn't fight me. You were so sure I wouldn't hurt you."

"Aren't dreams usually manifestations of what's happening in your life? If you're afraid you're going to hurt me or Allison, your mind puts something together. Maybe you just saw it happen and this was your head's way of dealing with it."

Scott frowned, unconvinced. "By making me claw your throat out? What kind of coping mechanism is that?"

She snorted. "A shitty one."

He half-smiled, but it fell quickly. "Malia… When I thought I hurt you, I—"

"Miss Tate?" Her math teacher's voice cut across the hall. "If your bladder is sufficiently _relieved_ …"

Malia turned her gaze upward and sighed. "I have to go." Looking back at Scott, she half-smiled. "We'll talk later, okay?"

He nodded, his brow furrowed. "Yeah. Uh, sure."

"Mister McCall," Matthews said, "you might want to find your way back to your classroom… _Immediately_."

"Right. Sorry." Scott turned on his heel and hurried away.

Malia watched him go for a beat and then sauntered back into class.

"No more emergencies?" Matthews drawled.

On her way back to her seat, she muttered, "Crisis temporarily averted."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia lingered at her locker, putting her books away and digging out a snack to tide her over until lunch. It was there that Allison found her, knocking their shoulders together with a cheerful, "Hey!"

Malia nodded in greeting and held out a baggie. Years ago, back when she and the boys were still coming into their friendship, she remembered Stiles saying something to the effect of Malia sharing food meant she liked you. A pretty accurate statement, she thought. Malia loved food; she always made sure to pack herself extra snacks for the school day. So, if she shared her food it was either a peace offering or an extension of friendship. Allison was the first person since the boys that she'd offered food to.

"Is this jerky?" Allison's brow knit and a curious smile tilted her mouth. She dug out a piece and tore off a bite with her teeth. " _Mmm_. It's good. Where'd you get it?"

"I made it. It's deer meat."

"Seriously?" Allison's eyes widened. "I'm impressed."

Malia shrugged and closed her locker. "What would be impressive is if I hunted the deer down myself, but I didn't. Dad bagged it. I just made it into something halfway edible."

"Still. I can barely make mac n' cheese."

Malia's mouth ticked up. "Maybe I'll teach you sometime."

"Deal." Allison wiggled her eyebrows then. "Anyway, nice try, but you're not going to distract me…"

"Distract you from what?" Scott wondered as he and Stiles came to a stop in front of the girls.

Before Malia could cut her off, Allison said, "Malia was going to point Cole out to me."

As if to torture her just a little more, Malia could actually see Cole walking down the hall in their direction. Surrounded by a few friends, he seemed oblivious to the group of four currently discussing his existence and whereabouts. Carefully avoiding looking at Scott or Stiles, Malia let out a quiet sigh. She glanced at Allison and then nodded her chin forward with emphasis.

Catching on, Allison turned her head, scanning around. "Which one?"

"Blue button up."

" _Ooh_ …" Allison grinned. "Okay. He's cute."

He _was_ cute. More so outside of the house party environment. His hair was swept to one side from running his fingers through it, the ends falling across his eyes and brushing his cheek.

"Wait. Cole _James?_ " Stiles whirled around to stare at Malia, wide-eyed. "You hooked up with the captain of the basketball team?"

"Hooked— _what?_ " Scott's brows hiked as he looked from Stiles to Malia to Cole and back. "When? H-How?"

"I'm pretty sure you know _how_." Stiles rolled his eyes before focusing on Malia. "You just said he was on the basketball team."

Malia shrugged. "He is."

"He's the _freaking_ captain." Stiles threw a hand up aggressively. "Plus, he's a senior!"

"So?"

"Isn't that a little…" His face scrunched up. "I don't know, weird? I mean, you're only sixteen."

"He's only seventeen." She shrugged and leaned back against her locker. "What's the big deal?"

"It's a pretty big deal! A very big deal!" Stiles tapped his foot and then knocked his hand against Scott's chest. "Scott, tell her how big a deal this is."

Scott's mouth fell open and he stared at Malia. "I don't… I'm still… I mean, _when?_ "

"At the party." Allison's brow furrowed innocently as she turned a confused look on Malia. "You didn't tell them?"

"Danny's party? After the game?" Scott shook his head slowly, his eyes squinted. "I didn't even know you liked anyone."

Malia shrugged. "We didn't know each other before then."

His eyes widened and his voice rose a notch, "You made out with a guy you _just_ met?"

Malia's sharp gaze focused on him. "Is that judgement I'm hearing?"

"What? _No_. I just… I meant…" He sighed. "I didn't think you'd—"

"What? Didn't think I'd _what_ , Scott?" Malia pushed off the locker, her chest tight and warm, like a tightly coiled spring had let loose. "Like I can't find somebody for myself? Stiles is pining over Lydia, you have Allison, don't I deserve someone?"

"I— Yeah. Of course. I just…" He fumbled, his shoulders hiked up to his ears. "I- I don't know!"

"Okay… I think maybe everyone needs to take a breath and calm down." Allison put her hand on Malia's shoulder and pulled her along. "We'll see you guys later, at lunch."

Malia let herself be towed away, glaring back at the boys over her shoulder, her mouth folded in a frown. "Acting like an overprotective… Like I can't pick whoever I want to… I don't need _permission_ …"

"I know." Allison patted her shoulder and kept them moving. "They were just surprised. That's all."

"Is that better?" Malia whirled back to face her. "I can date. Just because I don't doesn't mean I can't."

"Of course you can." Allison grinned encouragingly. "I said he was cute, didn't I?"

Relaxing a little, Malia let her shoulders loosen up. "He _is_ cute."

"Really cute." She hooked her arm through Malia's and knocked their shoulders together. "Come on, they're _boys_. They don't get it. That's the upside to having girl friends."

A small smile pulled at her mouth. "That and jerky."

Laughing, Allison reached for the bag still clutched tight in Malia's hand and pulled a piece out. With a wink, she said, "That, too."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia scowled down at her phone where it was tucked under her notebook, thumbing through her text messages. After break, she'd avoided the boys, and they weren't exactly quiet about it. She read Stiles' messages first; a mess of surprised emoticons, his texts frantic and worried.

— ' _all i'm saying is that a senior dating a sophomore is a little weird.'_

—' _not that you're dating'_

—' _you're not dating, right?'_

—' _you said it was like a one off. just a party hook up.'_

— _right?_ '

— _'i just want you to be careful. older dudes have expectations!'_

—' _omg!'_

—' _i sound like scott's mom when she gave us the worst sex talk in the history of sex talks…_ '

Rolling her eyes, she exited out of that conversation and let her thumb hover over Scott's name. She took a quick glance around to make sure nobody was paying attention. The teacher was droning on, his back to them as he wrote on the board, and everybody else looked halfway asleep. Shaking her head, she opened his messages and stared down at the screen, her teeth clenched.

—' _i'm really sorry.'_

—' _will you please talk to me?'_

— _i was just surprised'_

She stared at the writing until her eyes burned. Scrubbing the heel of her palm against one, she bit her lip.

A bubble popped at the bottom to tell her he was writing, and then—

—' _i just want you to be happy_ '

Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep breath and then turned her phone over, putting it away. When she opened them, she refocused. Grabbing up her pencil, she started taking notes, putting aside everything else.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"I hate eating inside." Malia glowered as she followed Allison through the cafeteria.

Allison rolled her eyes. "It's pouring out."

"A little rain never killed anyone."

Allison looked over at her knowingly, an eyebrow raised. "I'm pretty sure it has…"

"Well, yeah, the elderly, but we're young. We can fight off a little pneumonia."

Laughing, Allison shook her head. "Will you just sit with us for _one_ day? If it's not raining tomorrow, I'll gladly join you outside."

"Fine." Malia pursed her lips. "But I'm not making a habit of it."

Malia joined Allison as she made her way through the line to get her lunch together, her own packed away in her bag. She wasn't about to spend extra money on something she didn't need, especially not when she caught sight of the creamed corn. "Are you sure this is edible?"

The woman serving the food glared at her, but Malia shrugged. "It was a valid question."

Allison bit her lip to hide her amusement and then shuffled down the line. "I forgot to pack something this morning. This is kind of the only option."

"When you're in the hospital due to food poisoning, I'll drop by with a balloon that says, 'I told you so.'"

Allison grinned. "I'll cherish it."

"You better."

After paying, they made their way toward a table, Lydia's bright red hair easy to spot. The fact that she was sitting next to Scott, however, was worth a double take. The closer they got, the more the table filled out with people Malia knew by reputation only. She could safely say she'd never carried a conversation with most of them. While Allison moved to take a seat on Scott's other side, Malia plopped down next to Danny, sitting across from Lydia.

He grinned at her. "Hey. How was your Sunday hangover?"

"Not fun." Malia dug a sandwich, an apple, and her water bottle out of her bag. "How was yours?"

"Awful." He shook his head. "I almost skipped my run, I wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep for a week."

" _Almost?_ You went for a run anyway?"

He grinned. "Course I did. I might've thrown up in a few bushes on the way, but I made it."

"Not your mom's prized roses, I'm guessing."

He chuckled under his breath. " _Never_."

"Get up."

Malia looked up to see Jackson hovering next to Taylor, who was sitting at the head of the table.

Taylor sighed. "How come you never ask Danny to get up?"

Rolling an apple between his hands, Danny said, "Because I don't stare at his girlfriend's coin slot."

Malia looked from Danny to a newly standing Taylor, her lip curled. " _Ew_."

Jackson sat down, leaning back in his seat and hooking his ankle over his opposite knee.

"So, I hear they're saying it's some kind of animal attack." Danny's brow furrowed. "Probably a cougar."

"I heard mountain lion," Jackson said.

"A cougar is a mountain lion," Lydia corrected absently.

Jackson stared at her, a brow raised.

Seeming to realize her slip-up, Lydia quickly added, "Isn't it?"

"Who cares? The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna die anyway."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Careful, Jackson, your bleeding heart is spilling all over the table."

He smirked at her, his eyes narrowed sharply. "You win one game of beer pong and you get a big head, Tate." He leaned forward. "I still want a re-match."

"Yeah, I'll add that to my social calendar under 'why would I purposely spend more time with you again?'"

Danny snorted. "All right, be nice." He knocked his arm against Malia's. "Anyway, we won that game fair and square."

Jackson eyed her curiously. "I still don't know how someone as small as you can put so much beer away."

"Sheer will."

"Hey, I think I just found out the guy was," Stiles said, drawing everyone's attention. He held his phone out to play a video. It was a news report showing the parking lot, a brief shot of Sheriff Stilinski, and the mangled bus in the background.

" _The Sheriff's department won't speculate on details of the incident but confirmed the victim, Garrison Meyers, did survive the attack_." A picture of the victim hovered on the screen before panning to the back of the bus, covered in blood spatter. " _Meyers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition…"_

Scott startled in his seat and reached for Stiles' phone, thumbing it back to the victim's photo. "I know this guy."

Allison leaned toward him. "You do?"

"Yeah, when I used to take the bus." He looked from Stiles to Malia. "He was the driver."

Sitting forward, Malia looked across Danny to Stiles, her mouth pursed.

He gave her a quick, short nod.

"Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please?" Lydia wondered, waving a fork around. "Like, _oh!_ Where are we going tomorrow night?" She turned her attention to Allison, who stared back, confused. "You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?"

"Um." Allison's gaze bounced to Scott and then returned to Lydia. "We were thinking of what we were gonna do…"

Scott's brow furrowed.

"Well, I am not sitting at home again watching lacrosse videos." Lydia flicked her wrist and looked to Jackson. "So, if the four of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun."

"H-Hanging out?" Scott turned to Allison, who stared at him, wide-eyed. "Like, the four of us?"

Allison capped her water bottle and shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah, sure, that could be fun… I guess."

"You know what else sounds fun?" Jackson sent them all a flat look. "Stabbing myself in the face with this fork."

Malia grinned. "Great! I'll help."

He smiled back, fake and sharp.

"How about bowling?" Lydia suggested, stealing his fork from him. "You love to bowl."

He stared at her, unconvinced. "Yeah, with actual competition."

For her part, Malia couldn't help but be a little amused. Compared to the chaos of the bus victim and the last couple weeks of werewolf junk, having Jackson just be, well, an _ass_ , was kind of refreshing. She should've known better.

"Malia!"

Going completely still like a deer caught in headlights was not a great survival instinct, but that was exactly what she did. At least until she felt someone hovering right next to her and Danny bumped her shoulder to get her to look up. Malia raised her eyes to meet Cole's as he stood beside her, a slow grin spreading across his mouth.

"Uh, hey…" Clearing her throat, she leaned back a little, her stomach tying itself in knots.

"Hey." He licked his lips and pushed the sleeve of his shirt up his arm. "Uh, I was gonna text you, but that seemed lame, so… Look, I was wondering what you were doing tomorrow night. I thought we could hang out."

"Oh. Um… I…" Her mind drew a complete blank and, before Malia could think it through, she was abruptly looking in Allison's direction. That was what girl friends were for, right? Because right now, she was freaking out a little. And she had no idea if it was a positive or negative freak out. All she knew was that Cole was in front of her, asking her to 'hang out,' and she wasn't sure what to say. Yes? No? Was 'I don't know' on the table?

"Yes!" Allison said, a little louder than she probably meant to. "Uh, Malia would love to. In fact, we're all going bowling tomorrow night." Allison motioned to Scott and then to Lydia and Jackson. "It can be like a double date only with, you know, three couples instead of two…" Her brow furrowed. "Whatever that's called."

"A group?" Stiles suggested, brows hiked.

"Yeah." She smiled at him and then looked back to Cole. "Do you bowl?"

Cole grinned. "I do. I'm pretty good."

"See!" Lydia turned a knowing look on Jackson. "You wanted competition, now you have it."

Jackson glanced from her to Cole and then snorted. "You're on, James."

"Great." He grinned back at Malia. "Tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow," she repeated numbly.

He nodded. "Text me later with the details? I can pick you up."

"Sure. Yeah, I will."

With that, he flicked his fingers in a wave and walked away.

Malia stared after him a moment before turning back to the table.

Lydia was smirking at her. "Captain of the basketball team… Not bad, Tate."

Rolling her eyes, Malia turned her attention to Allison, who was beaming at her supportively. But, it was Scott that caught her eye— his brow furrowed as he stared at the table. Or maybe it was the phone in front of him, the screen off, but the memory of the bus driver obviously still fresh. Here she was setting up a date (was it really a date if there were six people there?) while he was freaking out over possibly mauling his old bus driver.

 _Priorities,_ she thought. Remembering she was pissed at him, however, she found herself conflicted.

"What did I tell you?" Danny grinned, knocking his elbow against hers. "Best night of his life."

Before Malia could reply, a loud _crunching_ noise could be heard. When she looked, Scott was holding the corner of his lunch tray in his hand, having snapped it completely off.

Stiles laughed awkwardly. "Cheap plastic."

Malia nodded. "It was probably that radioactive creamed corn. Ate right through it."

Snickers filled the table and the moment was officially ignored. Jackson turned the subject to lacrosse, clearly annoyed that he hadn't been the focus of attention for thirty whole seconds. But Malia kept her gaze on Scott. His head was ducked and his shoulders were tight, but he didn't appear to be shifting. Despite her earlier irritation, she couldn't help but feel for him. His supposed victim may actually be someone he knew, which had to be even more nerve-wracking. She stuck by her advice, though. If anyone could help him, it was Derek. She and Stiles may want to, but their tools were limited. She just hoped Derek stowed the lurky double-speak and actually helped.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After school, Malia caught a ride with Stiles.

"Are you talking to me yet? Because I feel like I had some valid concerns that should put me somewhere _outside_ of the doghouse…"

Malia looked up from her book. "I got in your jeep, didn't I?"

"Well, yeah, but I thought maybe Allison couldn't give you a ride, so you took what you could get." Stiles shifted around in his seat. "I'll admit, I overreacted… a _little_. I just wasn't expecting the first guy for you to kind of, sort of, _date_ to be… you know, captain of the basketball team… Or a senior… Or Cole _freaking_ James."

"Okay, seriously. I barely knew who he was when we met at the party. So, why the emphasis on his name? Do _you_ have a crush on him?"

"What? _No_. I just… I don't know. It's weird. You being all… _googly_ over someone."

"I'm not 'googly' over anyone." She put her book away in her bag and shifted to see him better. "Look, he's nice and he's hot and we had a good time. This is not a romance for the ages. I'm honestly surprised he found me at lunch. I really thought it'd just be a one-off." She shrugged. "And now I'm going on a group date with a couple I can't stand and a couple I'm trying really hard to be okay with… I _knew_ I shouldn't eat inside."

Stiles looked from her to the road and back. "Are you okay with that? I mean, spending hours with Scott and Allison…?"

"Yes… No…" She sighed. "I don't know." Slumping down in her seat, she glared out the window. "It hurt. I know it's stupid and I hate that I felt anything at all. But, seeing him kiss Allison just… _hurt_."

"Is that why you hooked up with Cole?"

"It wasn't the only reason… But it was part of it." She frowned. "Does that make me a shitty person?"

Stiles shook his head. "You can't help how you feel."

"I want to. If I could, I'd pull it right out, shove it in a box, and bury it somewhere."

"I don't think that's how these things work." He drummed his hands against the steering wheel. "Look, this Scott and Allison thing… I don't know how long it'll last. You ask me, he's holding onto her because she's the only normal thing he's got right now. But, that doesn't matter. Not really." He looked back at her. "If you like Cole, if he makes you happy, then go for it. And if it's just a distraction to help you cope, that's fine, too. As long as he knows that's what it is, nobody's really getting hurt."

Malia nodded. "Yeah. You're right."

"Okay." He glanced at her. "This means I'm forgiven, right?"

Sighing, she looked over at him, amused. "Sure. Right after you buy me dinner."

Stiles grinned. "Done."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After a shift at the clinic, where Sheriff Stilinski had asked Deaton to weigh in on the recent bus attack and the possibility of it being a wolf that may have attacked the driver, Deaton's words were stuck on repeat in Scott's head—

' _A wolf would have gone for the throat or the spinal cord with its teeth_ … _I suppose it could chase down its prey, hobbling it by tearing at the ankles. And then the throat_.'

In his dream, Scott had dragged Malia by her ankles and shredded her throat. He could still vividly remember the warm spray of her blood across his face. Even if it wasn't her, he could have done it to someone else. An innocent man who had crossed paths with someone— _something—_ he had no way of fighting off. That was part of the reason Scott went to the hospital. The other part was in the hopes that his mother might let him have the car for his 'hang out' tomorrow night. Seeing Mister Meyers freak out at the sight of him wasn't exactly encouraging. In fact, it kind of solidified all of Scott's fears that he had, in fact, been the one to attack Meyers.

With that in mind, he headed toward the Hale house. He wasn't kidding that morning when he told Stiles that Derek was still an option and Malia had only hammered that point home. The one thing Derek consistently mentioned to her was that he knew how to stay in control and Scott didn't. As if that wasn't all too obvious at this point.

Scott was frustrated, but more than that, he was _scared_. If the bus driver was just an innocent bystander, then what did that say for the people closest to Scott? How long until they were being wheeled away on a gurney because of something he did?

He rode his bike down the dirt road leading to the house, a light sprinkling of rain that warned of a coming storm. He pulled off the path and dragged his bike behind a tree when he heard the familiar crackle of a police radio and realized that someone else was visiting the Hale house, too. He approached slowly and quietly, watching through the dense trees as a deputy eventually spooked at his dog's chaotic barking, a warning that someone or something was lurking inside the imposing house. Giving in, the deputy hurried back to his car and took off, wheels skidding a little in the damp earth. Scott took the opportunity to step out from the trees, staring up at the house, wondering where, exactly, Derek might be hiding. He could hear his heartbeat, but couldn't pin point his location.

Scott's gaze wandered from one end of the dilapidated house to the other; broken windows, rotting wood, missing slats, and a crumbling porch stared back at him eerily. It didn't matter what time of day it was, this place always seemed haunted by the fire that had massacred it.

Balling his hands into fists, he raised his chin and said, "I know you can hear me… I need your help."

Derek didn't reply, but Scott could hear the creak of wood as he began to move. In answer, Scott crossed the leaf-strewn 'yard' and climbed the porch stairs to stand in front of the door.

When it opened, a brooding Derek stared back at him, just as intimidating as ever. He stepped outside to meet him, closed the door at his back, and tucked his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket.

"Okay. I- I know I was part of you getting arrested and that we basically announced you being here to the hunters." Scott shook his head, shrugging slightly. "I also don't know what happened to your sister. But, I think I did something last night. I had a dream about—" He paused. "—someone. But someone else got hurt. And it turns out that part of the dream might have actually happened."

Derek stared at him. "You think you attacked the driver?"

Suspicious, Scott demanded, "Did you see what I did last night?"

"No."

It was a simple answer with no elaboration, but, for some reason, Scott kind of believed him. Sighing, he wondered, "Can you at least tell me the truth…? Am I gonna hurt someone?"

"Yes."

"Could I kill someone?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Yes."

" _Am_ I gonna kill someone?"

"Probably."

Scott's heart squeezed and his stomach bottomed out. His eyes darted and a dizzying sensation made him feel weaker than he'd felt in a long time. Shoulders slumped, he crossed the porch and leaned against a pillar, completely defeated.

"Look, I can show you how to remember. I can show you how to control the shift, even on a full moon. But, it's not gonna come for free."

Scott turned a glare on Derek. "I didn't ask for any of this. I never wanted to _be_ this!"

"But you are." Derek stared at him firmly. "Do you want my help or don't you?"

Scott clenched his teeth, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "What do you want?"

"You'll find out." Derek nodded. "But for now, I'm gonna give you what you want. Go back to the bus. Go inside. See it, _feel_ it. Let your senses— your sight, smell, touch— let them remember for you."

Scott shook his head. "That's it? Just— just go back?"

"Do you want to know what happened?"

He sighed. "I just want to know if I hurt him."

"No, you don't." Derek's eyes narrowed. "You want to know if you'll hurt _her_."

Scott's brows hiked. "I know you don't know me, but I just want to do the right thing here!"

Derek took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "Malia thinks that you're incapable of hurting people. That whatever goodness you have in you can overcome your baser instincts. But you and I both know that when you shift, you can't help yourself. You can't _stop_ yourself. Maybe this time it was a bus driver and maybe next time it'll be her." He turned on his heel and walked to the door. "You have to figure out how hard you're going to work at making sure it's _no one_."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Can I ask you something kind of personal?"

Malia looked up from the notebook in her lap to where Allison was currently going through her closet. "You're standing in my bedroom in your underwear, rifling through my clothes, so, sure, go for it." Admittedly, she just wasn't wearing a top after trying on a few of Malia's shirts, but the fact remained.

"I'm not _rifling_ … I'm admiring." Allison pulled out a dress Malia had only worn once before and held it up against herself, checking out the length in the mirror. "And _you_ said you were open to sharing clothes."

"That's because I love leather jackets and you own six."

Allison grinned at her through the mirror. "And I've never seen you wear a dress, but you have a whole section of them."

Putting her notebook aside, Malia joined her at the closet. "Some of them are my mom's… Dad went through a phase where he thought getting rid of all her things would make him feel better. I convinced him I'd grow into her clothes and it would save money in the long run. But, he still said I should only pick the ones I really thought I'd wear. My mom was a dress person…" She hooked her finger in the skirt of a floral sundress and bit her lip. "She loved make-up and clothes and jewelry… A girly girl, I guess."

"It's pretty." Allison stared at the dress a long moment. "You must miss her."

"I do. Yeah." She let the fabric go and turned to Allison, pointing at the dress she was holding up against herself. "This isn't one of hers. I got this for a dance last year. Scott, Stiles, and I went together. I think I lost a bet or something…" She walked to a pin board hanging on her wall, plucked a picture out from under a criss-crossing ribbon, and brought it over.

Malia stood in the middle, her arms hooked around the boys' shoulders. Stiles' tie was pushed up onto his head, his shirt was unbuttoned, and he was mimicking a disco arm reach. He looked absolutely _goofy_. Scott, on the other hand, was wearing a suit a little too big for him, or the pants at least, the jacket was missing. It was his dad's and pretty much the only suit he owned, recycling it whenever something formal cropped up. His hair was wet and messy and he was smiling so big that she could almost count every last one of his teeth. His arm was hooked around her waist, fingers folded atop her hip. It was funny to think that it was just a year ago, but they all looked so _young_.

"This was last year?" Allison smiled down at the picture. "Why is Scott's hair wet?"

"It was raining after the dance. His mom picked us up but she could only park so close to the door. He held his jacket over my head so I wouldn't get soaked. You can't see it in the picture, but he was pretty much drenched." She smiled softly. "He caught a cold and was out of school for a week."

Allison hummed. "Do you guys go to all the dances together?"

"When they can get me to go, sure. I'm not really big on dances. I _like_ dancing. But dances are so…" She scrunched up her nose, " _public_."

"I get that." Allison shrugged. "Half the fun is just being with people you like."

"Exactly. Which I can do far, _far_ away from the school gym, where they think streamers make it smell less like moldy socks."

Snorting, Allison shook her head. She hung the dress back up in the closet before reaching for another one. "You said your dad got rid of a lot of your mom's stuff. What about your sister's?"

"I kept one of Kylie's teddy bears. And this." She hooked her thumb in the necklace she was wearing and held it up, a hollow heart pendant dangling from it. "I gave it to her for her birthday. She wore it everywhere." Her brow furrowed. "Sheriff Stilinski gave it to me after… Uh, after the accident."

Allison turned to her, a gentle smile upturning one side of her mouth. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah. Thanks." Clearing her throat, Malia reached past her and grabbed a shirt. "Anyway, this'll look good on you."

Allison took it and then held it up against herself in the mirror. "Why don't you ever wear it?"

Malia shrugged and made her way to her bed, taking a seat on the end. "I don't know. Nowhere to wear it to."

"What about tomorrow night?" Allison smirked. "I bet Cole would like it."

Rolling her eyes, Malia leaned back, resting her hands on the bed behind her to prop herself up. "You know tomorrow's going to be weird, right? Jackson hates Scott. He's not exactly fond of me, either. And I make it a point to let Jackson know I don't like him. Putting us all together in a competitive game of bowling seems like a bad idea."

"I know." Allison groaned, her head falling back. "But, what was I supposed to do? Just tell Lydia we didn't want to hang out with her? That would've been so awkward."

"I don't know, I've been successfully not hanging out with Lydia for sixteen years and then you came along and mixed things up."

With a laugh, Allison rolled her eyes. "It'll be fun. We'll _make_ it fun." She hung the shirt up and pulled her own back on before joining Malia on the bed. "Are you at least _kind of_ excited about Cole?"

Malia shrugged, turning around to see her better. "I don't know. I'm a little worried beer and good music made him more interesting than he actually is."

Allison's eyes widened. "Maybe don't lead with that when you meet up."

She snorted. "I'll try my best."

Shuffling up the bed, Allison rested her back against the headboard. "It's kind of nice hanging out at your place. At least we don't have my dad breathing down our necks."

Folding her legs under her, Malia cocked her head curiously. "He doesn't mind you coming out here?"

"As long as I'm back before 9:30, it's fine. I think he actually _likes_ having the early curfew, because it means I can't stay out late."

"Yeah, you know how rowdy those Mondays get."

Allison laughed, her dimples flashing. "We didn't get much homework done, did we?"

"Nope. But I like to live in denial when homework's on the table." She stared at Allison a beat before saying, "What did you want to ask me earlier? You said it was personal."

"Oh. Right. I just…" Allison's face flushed a pale pink and she fiddled with her fingers. "Well, I was wondering about the party. You said you and Cole hooked up and I guess I wondered if that was your… first time."

"Kissing someone?"

"Or anything else." Allison laughed awkwardly and shook her head. "You don't have to answer. It's dumb. I was just—"

"It's okay." Malia half-smiled. "It was the first time I made out with someone, yeah. I mean, I've kissed people before, but it wasn't serious. My dad and I used to go on these long cross-country trips in the summer. We had this awful Winnebago; it was just old and rusty and smelled. But, I don't know. It was fun." She shrugged. "Anyway, we were at this camp site and I was thirteen and there was this boy that was like… three RV's over. He was cute and he made me laugh and there was one night where we spent hours just talking and eating our weight in s'mores and… next thing I know, we're kissing."

"Awww…" Allison grinned. "So, what happened?"

"It was the summer. And we only stayed in one place for so long. Dad and I packed up and moved on a couple days later. He gave me his number, but… I don't know. It kind of felt like it was supposed to stay there in the park. Just a special moment."

"That's cute."

"Yeah, well." Malia eyed her curiously. "What about you? Was there anybody before Scott?"

"I mean… Yeah, a few people. I had my first kiss when I was twelve. We were neighbors and we spent every day together, you know? Just attached at the hip. But, it was kind of like you and the RV park— wherever we went, we always knew we were on a time limit. Eventually, my dad would say it was time to move again. In a weird way, it almost felt _more_ special; like every day was important. We would put tokens of everything we did— movie stubs, arcade tokens, carnival bracelets— in this shoe box that we decorated with cut-out hearts and stickers… I still have it." Allison looked up then, her brows arched almost defensively. "Her name was Sera. I don't know if she was my first love, but… She was something."

Malia stared at her a beat. "So, you like girls."

"Yeah."

"And boys."

She laughed under her breath. "Yes."

Malia nodded. "Okay."

Allison's eyes narrowed, but a slow smile upturned her mouth. "I don't know why I was expecting a bigger reaction, but I was."

"Beacon Hills is a small town, but you're not the first bi person I've met." She shrugged. "It doesn't change anything."

Letting out a heavy breath, Allison grinned. "No, of course not. I just… I don't know. I guess I expect certain reactions. Especially because I'm dating Scott. Sometimes people think that whoever you're with in the moment changes what you are or what you identify as, but…"

"It doesn't." Malia grinned. "You want a hug now? Or like, a firm handshake or something?"

Allison laughed. "You're such a dork." She held her arms out. "I'll take that hug, though."

Rolling her eyes, Malia climbed up the bed and hugged her. "Thanks for trusting me."

Allison leaned back to look up at her. "I know you and Lydia are still on rocky ground, but I like to think _our_ friendship is headed in the right direction."

Malia nodded. "We are."

"Good. Then you'll let me help you pick an outfit for tomorrow." Rolling off the bed, Allison bee-lined for the closet. "Starting with that shirt."

Sighing, Malia hopped off the bed to join her. "Fine. Do your worst."

Allison smirked.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

It was late. Malia had slogged through her homework and was getting some reading done before bed when she heard a creaking noise on the porch. It could have been the wind. Or even just the porch itself; after all, it wasn't exactly _new_. But, given the complicated life she'd been living, she expected the worst. Growing tense, she closed her book and turned her head, listening a little harder for any sign that someone, or something, was on the porch. She knew it wasn't her dad; he'd come home and stumbled off to his room hours ago. Which meant the options for who might be lurking around her house this late at night were _limited_.

A small tapping noise at the window drew her ear and she shuffled to the side of her bed, leaning over to check. Seeing Scott, she rolled her eyes. Crossing the room, she pulled the window up and glared at him. "You could've texted."

"You haven't answered any of my texts since break…" He frowned. "Can we talk? Please? I know you're mad at me, but—"

"Yeah, I am." She crossed her arms. "For totally valid reasons."

"I know." His shoulders slumped. "I screwed up. And I'm really sorry."

Malia clenched her teeth and looked away. She wasn't entirely sure if her anger was justified. His reaction to Cole bugged her, absolutely. But it was more than that. She was mad at herself, too. For getting so attached. For _hoping_. For wanting him to feel something he just _couldn't_ feel for her. For weighing him down with an expectation that he wasn't even aware he was carrying. It was hard and frustrating to know that he was completely unaware of how much bigger this whole thing was to her. That it didn't start at break, when he was slightly insensitive about her hooking up with someone. Instead, it started a long time ago. Longer than she liked to admit. Longer than she was ready to acknowledge… And that wasn't his fault.

"Will you just get in here before you wake my dad up?" She stepped back from the window and waited for him to climb through before she shuffled past him to close the window. "We could've talked tomorrow, you know? In the light of day. When it at least _seems_ less dangerous for you to be running around town."

"I'm a werewolf with super strength," he pointed out.

Sighing, she turned around to face him. "Well? _Speak_."

"I know it's not an excuse, but…" Scott grimaced. "Saturday was… I don't know. It felt like everything was happening at once. We dug up a body, got Derek arrested, I attacked you in the woods, and then the game... I was overwhelmed and shifting and I'm pretty sure the only thing that stopped me was hearing your voice. And then, when everything was over, you weren't there. You left with Danny and I just… I don't know. It feels like you're pulling away from us… from _me_. I can't even blame you after what happened in the woods—"

"Nothing happened. You didn't hurt me."

"But, I could've!" He stared at her searchingly. "When I had that dream… it was so real. I wish I could show you. Because you were right there, as close as we are right now. And I didn't stop. I didn't help you or save you or _anything_. Malia, I _killed_ you."

"It was a dream!"

"It was a _nightmare_. And when I got to the school and I realized it might be real, you don't know how scary that was." He reached up, running a hand through his hair and tugging on it. "What I'm trying to say is that ever since Saturday, I feel like something's different. Or maybe I'm expecting something to change. So, when I found out about Cole, I was… I don't know what I was. Worried, maybe. It was just weird, hearing about it… about _him_ … from Allison. Because you've always told me everything that was going on in your life and then, suddenly, I was the last person to find out."

"I didn't think you wanted to hear about one semi-drunk hook up at a party." She shrugged. "You have enough on your plate."

"But that's just it." His brows hiked. "I don't want this _werewolf_ stuff overshadowing everything else. It's important, I get that. But so are you. And if… If you really like Cole—"

"I barely know him." She frowned. "He's nice and handsome and… I don't know. It was a weird day and he made me forget about it. It was just nice to be… _wanted_."

Scott swallowed tightly, his gaze falling to her shoulder. "I get that."

"I would've told you… eventually."

"But you told Stiles." His eyes rose, searching hers. "Did I do something that you can't… that you feel like you can't share those things with me?"

Malia took a deep breath. How did she tell him that hearing him tell her he was happy that she found someone would feel hollow? That part of the reason she was drawn to Cole was because it was easier to distract herself with him than it was to feel as lost as she did when she was around Scott and Allison? "It's like I said, you're dealing with a lot more than whoever I hook up with at a party…"

"If it matters to you, it matters to me. Whatever I have going on, I always want to know what's happening in your life, good and bad."

She smiled faintly. "I know."

"Besides, it looks like I'm gonna get a chance to know Cole better…" He attempted a smile. "Now that we're all hanging out."

"Yeah. _Bowling_." She snorted. "Which you suck at, in case you forgot."

Scott groaned. "I know." Taking a seat at the edge of her bed, he pressed his thumb to the palm of his other hand and tapped a foot against the floor. "I, uh, I talked to Derek… I told him I thought I hurt Mr. Meyers."

"Really?" Her brows hiked. "What'd he say?"

"He told me there was a way to remember what happened, and he was right. Stiles and I went back to the school, to the bus, and… I was there." He shook his head. "But I didn't hurt Mr. Meyers."

"Who did?"

He frowned. "It was Derek."

Malia took a seat beside him. "That doesn't make sense."

He shifted to face her better. "A wolf attacked Meyers and Derek's the only other wolf around."

"That you know of."

Scott frowned. "What do you mean?"

"We don't know how many werewolves are out there. Derek came from a whole family of wolves. He was born into it. How many other people are just like him?"

Sighing, Scott's shoulders slumped. "That's not exactly what I wanted to hear."

Malia raised an eyebrow. "I know you want to think all of this is Derek. I'm not saying he isn't shady— he is— but I really don't think this is on him. It just doesn't add up. Why show you how to remember what happened if it'll only push you away?"

"Stiles thinks it might be some kind of initiation. Like, we have to kill together."

Frowning, she shook her head. "I don't know. I don't think so. I mean, I get the logic behind it, but… I really think there's more to it. And hey, if there is another wolf that's going around hurting people, maybe that's the other issue Derek's dealing with. Some homicidal werewolf." She shrugged. "Did he say anything else?"

"Just that he could help me control the shift, but… I owe him a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

He blew out an irritated breath. "He wouldn't say."

"Typical." She rolled her eyes. "Well, at least you know it wasn't you that hurt the bus driver."

"Yeah." His gaze fell to the floor. "But I don't like that I couldn't remember. That I just take off in the middle of the night and do things that I have no control over."

Malia reached for him, her hand circling his wrist and squeezing. "We could always tie you down."

He snorted. "Yeah, just what I need. My mom waking me up one morning and asking me why I'm chained to my bed."

She laughed. "Maybe she'll think it's a sex thing and just not bring it up."

He groaned. "How is that better?"

"It's not, but it's funnier."

Smothering a smile, he bumped her shoulder.

Malia grinned. "If it makes you feel better, my dad tried to give me the sex talk the other day."

He grimaced. "Really?"

"Yeah. After I got home from the party, he was worried about where I was so late and… It was so awkward."

He stared at her a beat. "So, you and Cole… It's not serious?"

"I mean, it wasn't when it happened. It was just… _fun_." She shrugged. "I didn't even think we'd talk again. I had no idea he'd ask me out."

"Why wouldn't he?" Scott's brow furrowed. "He'd be stupid not to."

"Yeah." Malia's gaze skittered away, her heart squeezing in her chest. "Anyway, I guess we'll see what happens after this group date…"

Scott nodded. "I guess so."

There was a lull in the conversation, but Malia couldn't tell if it was heavy and awkward just on her part or if he was feeling it, too. There was just so much left unsaid— so many mixed feelings about what was happening that she couldn't put a voice to.

"Is that from the dance?" Scott reached for the loose picture on her bedside table. "I was so sick after that."

Malia smiled, staring at the photo fondly. "I showed it to Allison, earlier. She found the dress I wore to it."

He glanced at her, nodding. "It's a nice dress."

"Your mom helped me pick it." Two hours in the mall with Melissa, both trying on overpriced, poofy, glittery dresses; it was strangely fun. "Which I'm pretty sure was her plan, since the corsage you gave me matched perfectly."

"I asked her what color you were wearing ahead of time…" He shook his head. "I lost mine somewhere at the dance. It fell off the lapel."

"I still have mine."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She hopped off her bed and moved to her book shelf, taking one of her favorite novels out and walking back to him. At the very center, pressed between the pages, was a pale blue flower, its edges browned and the petals wrinkled. "See?"

He leaned over, smiling softly. "You didn't want to wear it."

She rolled her eyes. "I thought I'd break it or lose it. It was all soft and delicate, the exact opposite of me."

"I think you can be both."

"Both what?"

"Delicate and strong." He looked up at her. "I really am sorry that I hurt your feelings… I don't know Cole. I don't know what kind of person he is, but I know you. And you're careful about who you let in and who you let close." Scott stood, meeting her gaze, nothing but the book and a pressed flower between them. "All I want is for you to be happy… whatever that takes."

Malia closed the book and hugged it to her stomach. "I don't think happy's an every day thing. I think it happens in moments. And I have those. Lately, they've been a little more complicated, but they're still there…" She shook her head. "Scott, I'm not pushing you away. And I'm not trying to hide parts of my life from you." She reached out, her hand landing on his forearm. "You'll always have me. I'm always on your side."

"I know." He half-smiled. "I'm on yours, too."

She nodded, her throat tight and a ball of emotion making it feel two sizes too small.

He reached for her then, a hand on her hip, drawing her forward until their chests met. The edge of the book had to be digging into him too, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he hugged her, their cheeks pressed together. She could feel each of his fingers against the bare skin of her side, slotted between the top of her shorts and the end of her shirt. His touch seemed warmer by the second, an imprint left behind on her skin. Malia reached up tentatively, her hand skimming the length of his arm before she reached the top and let the ends of her fingers hinge on his shoulder.

"Promise me you'll always talk to me. No matter what's happening or who's in the way…" His breath skittered against her ear. "'Cause I always want to listen."

Malia closed her eyes and let out a slow, shaky breath. "I promise."

He lingered there, warm and familiar. His hand skimmed up her back to her shoulder and squeezed. "I promise, too."

When he pulled back, she felt a chill, the warmth of him sapped from her skin. And then he was kissing her cheek, a quick brush of his lips. She opened her eyes and watched him make his way to the window. She stood, feeling like she was floating in place.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah." Her voice felt distant, separate from her. Mustering a smile, she tried to shake it off. "Don't expect me to go easy on you at bowling."

He snorted a laugh and ducked through her window. "I'd be offended if you did."

She met him at the window, ready to push it closed.

He stared back at her a beat. "Night."

"Night."

As he disappeared into the shadows, Malia pushed her window down and let out a heavy breath.

One of these days, she was going to stop letting her heart lead her down a path of self-destruction.

Today was not that day.

There was always tomorrow.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _i hope the scalia in this chapter made up for a lack of it in the last update. scott's really going through a roller coaster here. he starts his day thinking he might've (fatally) harmed malia, then thinks he attacked a bus driver, then finds out malia made out with cole, then gets pushed into a group date he's not even kind of enthusiastic about, and while he gets some answers to his questions around the bus driver, he still has a lot to figure out._

 _i was originally planning to post this last night, but i've been tired. i had my first week at my new job and it took some readjusting. on the bright side, it's on the longer end, so hopefully that helps. :)_

 **things to look forward to next chapter** _: stalia friendship, flirty!cole, ERICA, female friendship, danny asks the hard questions, derek opens up, an awkward bowling date, scalia goodness! ;)_

 _thanks so much for reading, please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	10. pack mentality 3

**word count** : 11,226  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : 1x03 - pack mentality

* * *

 **X**

"All I'm saying is that the power dynamics feel a little off lately… Like, Scott's Batman and I'm his plucky sidekick."

Malia tore a bite off her Poptart and squinted at him. "And you want to take turns in this roleplay…?"

"It's note a roleplay." Stiles rolled his eyes. "I just don't want to be Robin all the time, you know? Like, I can be Batman." He motioned to himself, his other hand tapping irritably at the steering wheel. "I've got Dark Knight written all over me."

"Uh-huh." She brushed some crumbs off her lap. "If you and Scott switch off on Batman and Robin then who, exactly, do you think I am?" Malia raised an eyebrow.

Stiles' mouth fell open for a moment. "Question… Is there even a right answer to that?"

A slow grin formed on her lips. "Are you wondering if it'd be sexist to go with a female character?"

"Kind of."

"Maybe even someone that's sometimes a hero, sometimes a villain, like Catwoman."

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "You could pull of the leather cat-suit in a pinch."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Neither of you are Batman _or_ Robin."

"Hey!"

"Are you secretly fighting crime when I'm not looking? No. You're doing homework, playing video games, and occasionally practicing for lacrosse." She crumpled up the wrapper of her sugary breakfast and shoved it in the cup holder to be thrown out later. "When you save a few lives or take on the Joker, _then_ we'll talk."

"But, you at least agree that if we _were_ fighting crime, I wouldn't just be the sidekick, right?"

Sighing, she leaned her back against the passenger door and stared at him. "Wasn't Robin an acrobat or something? If anything, _I'm_ Robin. And you're… Commissioner Gordon."

"What?!" he squawked.

Smothering her amusement, she shook her head. "You're so easy… Anyway, it doesn't matter who's wearing the leotard or the mask or throwing bat-shaped _whatever_ at _whoever_. There's no ranking system on who's the bigger hero, especially since we've done literally _nothing_ heroic. But I'm sure that if we did, you and Scott would be working equally hard to solve it. All right?"

Somewhat mollified, he nodded. "Yes, thank you." He drummed his hands on the steering wheel then and checked his mirrors. "Do you think we will?"

"Will what?"

"You know, save people… I mean, I know Scott's pretty hung up on the whole 'being normal' thing right now, but… Imagine what you could do with those kind of skills."

She eyed him thoughtfully. "Make you a pretty efficient detective."

"Right?" He grinned. "Guarantee yourself a spot in the FBI…"

"Stiles?" She shook her head. "You don't need super senses for that. You'll get in on skill alone."

His gaze fell for a moment and he shifted in his seat. "You think?"

"Yeah, of course."

He grinned slowly. "You're getting soft on me, Tate."

"Whatever." She scrunched up her nose. "Anyway, what are you going to do tonight now that the only two people you hang out with will be _bowling?_ "

"Oh, you know— homework, video games, help a few old ladies cross the street. The usual."

"Uh-huh. You know, you could just come with us."

"Bowling?" He pulled a face. "I don't think I want to watch Scott fail that hard in front of his nemesis."

"Jackson?" Malia snorted. "He's hardly worth the title of 'nemesis.'"

"Arch-rival?"

"Sure. That'll work." She looked up as the school came into view and sighed. "How many more days until summer?"

"Too many."

She sent him a withering scowl. "That was hardly encouraging."

"Only one of us can be moral support and since you already pulled the 'you'll be the best agent the FBI has ever seen' shtick, I'm stuck with being the comedic affect in this friendship."

"I said you were skilled. Not the best they've ever seen."

He pressed a hand to his chest and groaned. "Straight to the heart."

Snorting, she rolled her eyes. "You'll live."

"And you'll survive math class."

Malia grimaced. "We'll see."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

While she might be surviving, Malia was bored to tears in math class, which made her especially relieved to feel her phone vibrate. Carefully pulling it out, she placed it on her binder, just out of view, and pulled up her messages.

 ** _Cole (1)_**

— _'still on for tonight?'_

Biting her lip, she thumbed back. —' _how can i turn down bowling?_ '

A beat passed before— ' _is it impressive or dorky if i'm good at bowling?'_

—' _won't know until I've seen your moves_.'

—' _who says I have any?_ '

She smothered a laugh. —' _shouldn't you be talking yourself up?_ '

—' _i don't know, there's a thin line between confident and cocky…'_

Malia glanced up to make sure no one was paying attention and then quickly typed in a response —' _which one are you?_ '

—' _which one do you want me to be?_ '

She paused before answering —' _genuine_.'

—' _i genuinely can't wait for tonight_.'

She wrote out —' _me either_.' But then, wondering if she was being genuine herself, she erased it. Instead, she wrote —' _not bad_.'

He sent a winky face in reply. —' _do you like me yet?_ '

A smile pulled at her mouth. —' _i'm getting there_.'

—' _i can work with that_.'

It was a throwback to the party and, she had to say, she liked it.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia was on her way to her locker, reading through a few texts from Allison, when she spotted Erica. Her head was down, shoulders hunched, books hugged tight to her chest as she kept to the edges of the full hallway, trying her best to blend in. Remembering their conversation on Sunday, Malia cut across the crowd in her direction. It was break, which meant people were taking their time instead of rushing to next class, but that only served to irritate her as she tried to wade through the distracted, clustered students.

Finally reaching the girl, she hooked a hand over Erica's shoulder. "Hey."

Startled, Erica whipped around, her eyes wide.

"Sorry." Malia shrugged. "Guess I could've called your name."

"It's fine." Erica glanced away and then back. "I didn't think you'd talk to me here."

Her brow furrowed. "Why?"

"I don't know. It's so… _public_."

"You know you're not a pariah, right? You're just a Freshman." Malia shrugged. "It's not like you have cooties."

With a snort, Erica raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I do."

"Look, I just wanted to apologize…" She hooked a thumb in a belt loop of her shorts. "You were right. I was in a pissy mood and I wasn't seeing things from your point of view. I don't know what it's like to be you or what school's like for you. What I do might not work for you, I don't know. And I'm only a year older, it's not like I wrote a 'how to' for surviving high school."

Erica sighed. "You weren't that bad. I was kind of a brat… I just, I don't know. My mom's always telling me to do things like she did and it'll just make everything better. She forgets she was pretty and athletic and never had a seizure in her life."

"Yeah, we're all pretty much just talking out our asses." Malia half-smiled. "Anyway, I put my foot in my mouth. Forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive, seriously." Erica shook her head. "I totally overreacted."

"You had a pretty good point, though. I _am_ lucky. I know some great people."

"You weren't totally wrong either. If I want friends, I want them to be the right people… I just don't know how to make that happen."

"To be honest, neither do I. I'm terrible at social interaction."

Erica half-smiled. "I've noticed."

"Malia!"

She turned, brow furrowed, and spotted Stiles waving at her from across the hall. His gestures were wild and frantic. Though, that tended to be a personality trait of his. Still, considering the current werewolf issue, she figured it was better to find out what was going on.

"Uh, sorry to cut this short, but…" Malia motioned to Stiles with her thumb.

Erica bit her lip and stared in Stiles' direction for a moment. "Yeah, sure. See you around, I guess."

"We go to the same school and you work at the only store that still sells my favorite Doritos. We'll see each other." With a nod, Malia took off across the hall, coming to a stop in front of Stiles. "What's up?"

Stiles stared past her shoulder. "Who's that?"

"Erica. Why?"

"Because I can name all your friends on one hand, that's why." His brow furrowed. "She a sophomore? I don't recognize her."

"Freshman." Malia tapped her foot impatiently. "Now, why'd you call me over here?"

"Since when are we making nice with Freshman?"

"I'll make nice with whoever I want." She shoved his shoulder. "Will you get to the point, please?"

"I didn't have a point. I'm your best friend. I don't _need_ a point."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Seriously, you waved me over like you had something to tell me."

Stiles shrugged. "I can make something up if it's really bugging you."

"Whatever." She started down the hall, en route to her locker once more. "I'm hungry. What do you have to eat?"

He dug a granola bar out of his pocket and flipped it sideways, squinting at the wrapper. "Got some oats, chocolate, and caramel."

Snagging it from his fingers, she nodded. "That'll work."

"Hey! We're not even gonna split it?"

"You should've thought of that before." Tearing it open with her teeth, she spit the end of the wrapper at him, laughing when he batted it away from himself. "Here." She tore it in half and gave him the smaller piece.

"Thank you." He shoved the whole thing in his mouth. Still chewing, he asked, "So, where'd you meet the Freshman?"

"Erica," she corrected. "And she's Ramón's cousin, works at the corner store."

He squinted suspiciously. "The same corner store that Derek picked you up from?"

"Yes. And what's with the tone? You think she's his secret informant of something?" She rolled her eyes. "We literally met that same day."

"Fine." He frowned. "But, I still wanna know how he knows where you are…"

"He's a werewolf." She shrugged. "Maybe he sniffs me out."

Stiles pulled a face. "What do you think you smell like?"

"Shampoo."

He nodded. "Makes sense." A beat passed before he leaned over and sniffed at her.

Malia elbowed him in the side and hurried her steps, her locker in sight.

"I was just checking!"

"Yeah, and I know exactly where that leads." She unlocked her combination before glancing at him. "I'm not sniffing you."

"What if I secretly smell bad? You think Scott would tell me?" He sniffed at his shoulder. "I can't tell."

Shoving her books inside, she dug around in her bag for something else to snack on. "Look on the bright side, if you do stink, there's only two, maybe three people who know for sure."

"Didn't you tell Scott that we have no idea how many werewolves are running around out there?"

She glanced away and then tossed an apple in his direction. "So, avoid werewolves."

"Wait, so you think I _do_ smell?"

Sighing, she shook her head. "Literally, no matter how I answer this question you aren't going to be convinced. Just ask Scott to sniff you."

"Fine." He bit off a chunk of apple and squinted at her. "But in future, if you ever need someone to smell you…" He flicked a hand between them. "I'll remember this."

"Yeah, you nurse that grudge, Stink-face."

He frowned at her. "Seriously?"

Malia shrugged, unapologetic.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Lunch saw Malia happily lazing under her favorite tree, far from the overcrowded cafeteria.

"You know what I just realized…?" Allison leaned sideways to catch a grape with her mouth as Malia threw it. When it landed, she threw her hands up in victory and did a seated wiggle dance.

Malia ate her own grape. "What?"

"We were supposed to go to gymnastics tonight. But since we're going bowling…"

"We're gonna miss their open hours." Malia's nose wrinkled. "We'll have to try again next week, I guess."

Sighing, Allison leaned back on her hands. "Not that I'm complaining, because I like bowling, but what else is there to do around here?"

"Movies, parties, underground concerts that are almost definitely illegal… Oh, and ice skating."

"Skating?" Allison perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah. There's a rink." Malia shrugged. "I haven't been in a while."

"Would you want to go?"

"Go where?" Lydia appeared next to them, smoothing a hand over her tight skirt. "And why do you two have something against indoors, where there's _real_ chairs to sit in?"

Malia shrugged. "It's quieter out here."

"We were talking about ice skating." Allison beamed up at Lydia, raising a hand to cover her eyes from the sun. "Malia says there's a rink."

"Oh. Yeah. Jackson's not big on skating." She waved a dismissive hand. "So, not an ideal double date."

"Shockingly, we can do things _without_ Jackson." Malia stared up at her. "How about you, Lydia? You skate?"

Lydia turned a look on her and forced a smile. "I can."

"Then it's set. We'll go skating." Malia looked back to a happy Allison. "Just us girls."

Allison looked between them. "That sounds great!"

"Yeah… _great_." Lydia continued to stare at Malia, searching for some ulterior motive.

But, Malia didn't have one. Except possibly discouraging any future hang outs becoming some kind of weird three-sided date fest. She hadn't even had one of those and she was already over it. As if to prove this, Malia extended a hand, both figuratively and metaphorically. "Grape?"

Lydia scrunched up her nose, but eventually dug a grape out of the bag dangling from Malia's fingers. "Thank you."

"Welcome." Turning back to Allison, Malia threw another one, grinning when Allison caught it again.

Rolling her eyes, Lydia carefully took a seat in the grass without any more protest.

In a weird way, it felt like progress.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

There was only fifteen minutes of study block left. Malia had aced a practice quiz Danny had prepared for her and had made a sizeable dent in the homework. So, she was feeling pretty good up until the point he brought up the dreaded 'd' word.

"Are we gonna talk about your date tonight?"

Malia sighed. "Is it even a date when it involves six people and used shoes?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "He obviously wants it to be."

"You know, I never took you for a gossip."

Grinning, Danny said, "I'm living vicariously through you."

"You wouldn't have to if you dated your dad's boss's son... Who clearly needs a name, because that was a mouthful."

"I know you're just trying to distract me." After putting his books away, he rested his arms on the table. "Are you excited, nervous, considering escape routes…?"

She squinted at him. "If I _was_ considering escape, would you help me?"

"We could come up with a safe word." He nodded thoughtfully. "You text it to me, I'll call you with a fake emergency. Or we can skip the dramatics and you just sneak out the back exit; I'll pick you up in the parking lot."

"Danny Mahealani, wheel man?" Malia grinned. "A hundred percent, yes."

Chuckling, he shook his head. "Deal. But, seriously… Do you even want to do this?"

She slumped back in her seat. "Honestly? I'm fifty-fifty. Cole seems like a really nice guy. He's a great kisser and very pretty to look at."

"Okay. But?"

"But…" She sighed. "It's not emotional. Not for me. There are literally no strings on this end. I like him, but I don't…"

"You don't like him the same way you like Scott." Danny stared at her searchingly. "Can I ask…? Why? Why Scott?"

"Because he's the best person I know. He has the biggest heart. He just cares on a level I struggle to. It's like… I built a wall around myself when I was ten. And he didn't knock it over. He just waited until I was ready to let him in..." She shook her head. "Scott though, he has no wall. He's just walking around unguarded, willing to put himself on the line for people. On the one hand, that's terrifying, and probably setting himself up for disaster. But, on the other… I envy that. Because I've spent six years holding most people at arm's length."

First, there was Stiles. He took one look at her nearly un-scalable wall and climbed it anyway, making himself a permanent fixture in her life. Through Stiles, she met Scott, and even though she was adamant she didn't need any more people, he changed her mind. Brick by brick, Malia made a door in her wall, and when Scott knocked, she answered. But it was a door she didn't open often, securely locked in an effort to keep people from getting too close. For the longest time, there was just her and the boys. Then Melissa asked for an invite and, happy to have someone in her life that resembled a mom, Malia accepted. Years later, Allison had made her own window. Danny snuck in. And Malia had a feeling, in time, Erica would have a key, too.

Sighing, she said, "It's more than that, though. It's how I feel when we're together. Like everything scary and painful in the world just stops existing. When I'm with him, I just feel safe and alive and… _loved_. And I know that he loves me, I don't doubt that. It's just not the way that I love him."

Danny hummed, but said nothing, his brow furrowed thoughtfully. "How do you know?"

She blinked. Whatever response she was expecting, that wasn't it. "What do you mean?"

"How do know what way he loves you?" He stared at her searchingly. "I don't want to poke holes in your theory and I don't want you to get any more hurt than you already are. But… have you ever wondered if maybe you were wrong? Maybe you were reading the signs wrong the whole time."

"You said it yourself... he's into Allison."

"There's a big difference between liking someone, even being attracted to them, and being in love. And sometimes we date and we're with people we don't love because we don't think we can be with who we really want." His brows raised. "Isn't that what you and Cole are doing?"

"Yeah, but…" She frowned. "No. That's not Scott. He genuinely likes Allison."

"Maybe he does." Danny shrugged. "But 'like' isn't 'love.'"

The bell rang then, signalling an end to their lesson. Danny hooked his bag over his shoulder and stood from his chair. "Look, I don't know McCall enough to say how he feels. But, I think you do. Take your feelings out of the equation and try to look at it, at him, from an unbiased position… See what you find. If I'm wrong, then I'm wrong. No harm, no foul. But if I'm right… Then maybe you do something about it." As he walked past her, he knocked a hand against her shoulder. "Text me after your date, let me know how it went."

Distracted, she nodded. "Yeah, sure."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

That evening, Malia found herself semi-relieved that her dad wasn't home. The other part of her was worried that he was at a bar or that he might appear around the same time that Cole picked her up for their… _date_. The last thing she wanted was for them to interact, especially if her dad had been drinking. Which was why she was pacing a hole across her living room floor, absently pulling at the bottom of her top. It was, well, _short_. But Allison had been adamant that it was a cute outfit she should definitely wear out. She was regretting that. A lot.

The knock at the door jarred her. Malia's stomach bottomed out as she crossed the floor, took a deep breath, and yanked the door open with an attempted smile. She was expecting to find Cole on the other side, instead she found Derek.

"You look constipated."

Malia sighed. "Maybe this is my confused face. A totally expected reaction to you being here. And that you managed to knock on my door. Usually you just appear from shadows like some Dracula knock-off."

He shrugged, his hands tucked in his jacket pockets. "Consider this an attempt at civility."

"Cool, only two weeks late, but whatever." She pushed the door open wider. "I know you're not a vampire, so you don't need my permission to enter."

Snorting, he stepped through the door and took a quick look around. "Anyone else here?"

"You'd be able to hear them, wouldn't you?"

"Felt polite to ask."

"No. No one's here. My dad's out." She closed the door. "I'm going out, too. _Soon_." She raised an eyebrow. "So? What's up?"

"Scott investigated the bus, I'm guessing."

Malia nodded. "Yeah, said it was another wolf..." She watched him wander around her living room, lingering by the fireplace mantle and the many dusty salt and pepper shakers it wore. "He thinks it was you."

He picked up a pepper shaker shaped like a leprechaun. "What do you think?"

"That it would be stupid to help him remember if you were the one that did it." Crossing her arms, she stared at him searchingly. "What's really going on? You said you had more on your plate, is this part of that?"

Placing the leprechaun next to it's salt-less pot of gold, Derek turned to look at her. "I have a theory."

"About?"

"Who attacked the bus river."

"All right. I'm listening."

Taking a deep breath, he sighed. "I came to Beacon Hills for a reason. I don't make it a habit to come back to the town where my family burned alive in my family home…"

Realization dawned; a cold feeling that dripped down her body. "Your sister."

"Laura." He nodded. "She went missing and… I came here to find her."

Malia's heart sunk into her stomach. "Instead, you found a body."

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. Suddenly, he looked like the sharp and intimidating man she'd first met in the woods. Shrouded in mystery, a walking threat, predatorial and violent. "I found her in _pieces_ , being used as bait to catch me."

She swallowed tightly. "And you think whoever attacked the bus driver killed your sister?"

He shoved his fists into the pockets of his jacket. "You remember when I told you that only an alpha can turn someone?"

She nodded.

"When a beta kills an alpha, they _become_ the alpha. Whoever killed Laura took her power and they used that to turn Scott."

Malia's brow furrowed. "But why?"

"The more betas an alpha has, the stronger they are." He shrugged. "Scott was just a means to an end."

"If that's true, then what was the bus driver about? Is it some weird initiation?"

"Possibly." His brows hiked. "They could be testing Scott's loyalty to them."

Malia's lip curled in distaste "He doesn't _have_ any loyalty to them. He doesn't even _know_ them."

"True. But, a beta will feel…" He shook his head. "There's just a feeling of loyalty that comes with it. Especially if you're shifted. Packs are like family."

She scoffed. "That's one screwed up family."

"Yeah, well." Derek grimaced. "Whoever this alpha is, they're out of control."

Malia nodded a moment, but then paused. She turned narrowed eyes on Derek, suspicious and more than a little judgemental. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You asked."

 _Yeah, right_. "I've _been_ asking. From the very beginning, after you started showing up while I was jogging or going to the store or leaving a party. And every time, you've only given me bits and pieces to work with. What's different now?"

"If this alpha is seeking Scott out, if he lured him to that bus to get him to kill, then Scott is a bigger threat than I thought." Derek shook his head. "He won't listen to me. He doesn't _trust_ me. But, he does trust you."

Her brow furrowed. "So?"

" _You_ need to talk to him. He came to me because he was worried he hurt that bus driver. But more than that, he's worried he's going to hurt you."

"I'm not the only one who could get hurt. There are a lot of people in the line of fire." She tossed a hand up irritably. "Especially if some homicidal alpha wolf is running around biting random people to stock up power."

"It's different." His lips flattened. "Look, alphas are the most dangerous of our kind. This thing is more powerful, more animal than me or Scott. I need to find it- not just because of what happened to my sister, but because it's a threat to everyone in town."

"What do you want _me_ to do?"

"Convince Scott that he can come to me. I can't track this thing on my own and he's the only other werewolf around here. We have to work together on this… Otherwise, I can't guarantee anyone's safety."

Malia licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry and a foreboding weight falling on her shoulders. She shook her head. "I can't make him trust you."

"But you can talk to him… If he thinks that this alpha might be a threat to you—"

"I'm not going to leverage his worry against him." She glared. "He's freaking out about this werewolf stuff already. Adding another layer of panic isn't going to help."

Derek rolled his eyes. "We don't have time to cushion him from this."

"Maybe we'd have more time if you didn't keep this stuff to yourself for two weeks!"

"I wasn't sure I could trust him… Some betas become so loyal to their alpha, they'll kill on cue. I didn't know who Scott was then. And since he wanted to put people in danger by continuing to play lacrosse, I wasn't exactly encouraged."

"What changed your mind?"

Derek folded his mouth and sighed through his nose. "Look, I told Scott that if I helped him remember what happened on that bus, if he wanted me to teach him how to control the shift, that he owed me. Saving the town from a bloodthirsty alpha seems like a good option."

Malia ground her teeth together. Before she could say anything, however, there was a knock at her door. Frowning, she walked to it and pulled it open.

Cole stood on the other side, half-grinning. "Hey."

"Hey. I'm almost ready, I just…" She looked back over her shoulder, to where Derek was standing. She couldn't exactly tell Cole who he was, so her next best option was a simple lie. "My cousin dropped by unexpectedly. Give me a minute. I'll meet you by the car."

"Sure. Take your time." Cole nodded to Derek in hello before turning on his heel and walking down the porch.

Closing the door, Malia returned her attention to Derek. "I can talk to Scott, but I can't guarantee anything. He's not exactly happy that he's a werewolf. I don't think he wants to get any more involved than he already is."

Derek nodded, a sour expression twisting up his mouth. "And if he doesn't?"

She sighed. "If there _is_ a werewolf running around hurting people, then… I don't know. I'm not exactly swimming in accurate information when it comes to this stuff. But, if you need help… I'll do what I can."

"You're human," he pointed out. There was no condescension— it was a simple statement of fact.

"Yeah, and I pack a mean punch. I'm not offering to wrestle this thing one-on-one, but I'm not completely useless either."

A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Cool." She grabbed up her purse and walked to the door. "Good talk. But, I have a date, so…"

Derek's brow arched, amused, and he followed her outside to the porch.

In the driveway, Cole was sitting in his car, lit up by the light of his dash.

"What's his name?" Derek wondered, walking with her.

"Cole. He's a senior. And completely human, so far as I can tell."

Derek hummed. "Scott know?"

She glanced at him, her brow furrowed. "He'll be there. With Allison. It's some weird group date."

"Seriously?"

She snorted. "Yeah, I know. I don't know how I got roped into it either."

Derek paused next to his car and looked back at her. "Have fun."

"Might be difficult now that I know what's going on."

He shook his head. "Probably the best time to do it. Things can only get harder from here."

As he pulled his door open and climbed into his car, she rolled her eyes. "Don't ever go into motivational speaking."

Not waiting for a response, Malia climbed into Cole's car, and watched Derek pull away through the side mirror. "Sorry for the wait."

"It's fine. You and your cousin are close?"

Malia smothered a grimace and pulled her seatbelt on. "Closer than we used to be. So, looking forward to bowling?"

Cole put the car in reverse and grinned at her. "I'm just glad we're hanging out."

"And in rented shoes, too."

He laughed under his breath. "I think I can pull it off."

"Yeah?"

He nodded.

She smiled. "We'll see."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Well, look who finally showed up…" Jackson sent them an impatient smirk. "You get lost on your way to the only bowling alley in town?"

"That's on me." Cole smiled, shrugging lightly. "I didn't realize how far out Malia lived. Took a while getting back into town."

"Plus, they have police stationed around town, making sure people follow the curfew rule." Malia walked down the stairs to the bowling platform and looked to Allison. "I'm surprised your dad let you out."

"Yeah. About that…" She scrunched up her nose. "He didn't."

"What?" Scott's brows hiked. "You snuck out?"

"It's one night." Allison shrugged. "And the curfew is pointless anyway. I mean, at least the school is close to the woods and it's quiet at night. I can kind of see a cougar attacking someone there. But, there's too much noise and lights out here. We'll be fine."

"When'd you become our resident mountain lion expert?" Malia teased, before taking a seat next to her. "You know he'll freak if he finds out you're not home, right?"

"I think he was going out anyway. Chances are, I'll be home before he even notices."

"Sure, if we ever get this game going." Jackson looked between them, brows raised. "Sometime tonight."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Didn't know you were so eager to _lose_."

Jackson smirked. "Not this time, Tate."

"Jackson is a _great_ bowler," Lydia piped up, grinning proudly.

He smiled at her and the two met for a kiss.

Grossed out, Malia turned her attention elsewhere, and found Scott hovering just at the edge of the chairs, looking awkward and unsure.

"Who's up first?" Malia wondered.

"That'd be me." Lydia stood and made her way to the lane, Jackson right behind her.

"Didn't know this was a group effort…" Malia fiddled with an earring, her brow furrowed as she watched Lydia, with Jackson helping guide her arm, throw a ball into the gutter. A second ball knocked down a record of two pins.

"I'm so bad at this," Lydia muttered as they walked back to the chairs.

Malia frowned, remembering just last week Lydia mentioned that she was actually pretty good at bowling. "Could be the shoes."

Lydia snorted. "Maybe that wedge heel will even out my throw."

"At this point, it couldn't hurt."

Lydia merely rolled her eyes before taking a seat, half in Jackson's lap.

As Allison took up position next, Cole shifted closer to Malia, keeping his voice low as he wondered, "Are you two friends?"

"Who? Me and Lydia?"

He nodded.

Malia curbed the immediate instinct to deny it, instead giving it some thought. As much as she might've laughed at the idea just a couple weeks ago, she'd spent more time with Lydia lately than she had in the ten years prior. "We don't actively hate each other."

His mouth curled slowly. "Is that an improvement?"

"Strangely, yeah." She focused on him— it was unfair how long his eyelashes were. "You know Jackson?"

He shrugged. "From sports, mostly. He's a good lacrosse player. Shit at basketball, though."

"How are you at lacrosse?"

He shook his head, his gaze dipping down to her mouth. "It's not my best sport."

"You're captain of the basketball team, right?"

"Mm-hmm." He nodded. "Why? You wanna come to a game sometime? I'll save you a seat."

She snorted. "Somewhere right up front, so I can admire your skills?"

He grinned slowly. "Didn't you already admire those?"

She laughed, her head falling back. "Maybe you can refresh my memory."

" _Yes!_ " Allison made her way back to the group and high-fived a grinning Lydia as she went.

"Somebody brought their A-game."

Looking up at the board, Malia spotted a strike next to Allison's name. "Archery, gymnastics, bowling, what can't you do?"

Allison beamed back at her.

While Jackson was picking out a ball, Malia turned to see Scott sitting next to her, his knee bouncing nervously, hands clutched so tight his knuckles were white. She reached over, resting her hand on his wrist and squeezing. Leaning closer, so the others wouldn't hear, she said, "Want me to pull a fire alarm?"

He let out a strangled laugh.

"I've got Danny waiting for a 911 text. He offered to smuggle me out the back door."

Scott looked up at her, his brow furrowed. "How worried were you tonight would suck?"

Malia hummed. "On a scale of one to ten, probably a hard eight... You?"

"Twelve."

Malia smiled, gently and knowingly. "Say the word and we can leave."

He shook his head. "I just don't want to embarrass myself."

"It's just bowling." She shrugged. "Nobody really leaves here a winner."

Lydia cheered as Jackson scored a strike, too. Smugly walking back, he looked over, a brow raised. "Well?"

"I think I'm up." Cole stood and looked to Malia. "Wish me luck?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You're sure you don't want help?"

"So you can distract me? Nice try."

She grinned. "You're on to me."

He winked at her before walking over to pick up a ball.

"Please don't bowl a strike," Scott muttered, dragging a hand over his face.

Cole didn't; he bowled a spare.

Malia winced at Scott in sympathy.

He sighed, shoulders slumped.

Malia patted his knee, before looking up at Cole as he retook his seat. "Not bad."

He shrugged. "Didn't want to show off."

Amused, she rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh."

"You're up, McCall." Jackson and Lydia simultaneously turned around in their seats to pin Scott with a mocking stare.

Malia shook her head. "Think I just had a flashback to the murder twins in The Shining."

"You can do it," Allison encouraged, bumping Scott's shoulder with her own.

He half-smiled, looking nauseous and unsure. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he stood from his seat and made his way over to the bowling balls.

While Jackson looked on with a smirk, Scott slowly walked to the lane, weighing a green ball in his hand.

Malia leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees and her chin propped in her hands.

The first ball rolled right into the gutter and Jackson's obnoxious laughter quickly followed.

Malia didn't even bother glaring at him.

"Jackson," Allison said. "Mind shutting up?"

"You know, it's never too late to add the kiddie bumpers," he snarked.

"He probably just needs to warm up." Cole shrugged. "If you haven't played in a while, it can take a bit to get used to."

"Yeah." Jackson raised an eyebrow. "Or he just sucks at it."

"Just aim for the middle," Allison told Scott.

"How about you aim for anything that isn't the gutter?"

"Let him concentrate."

Scott stepped up to throw his second ball and… guttered it again.

While Jackson laughed, a defeated Scott wandered back to the benches.

"You should just do what I do next time." Malia passed him to pick up a ball. "Just imagine every pin is Jackson's face."

It was a hundred percent worth the sour look on Jackson's face when she walked away with a strike. "Yeah," she said, pointing. " _That_ face."

Glaring at her, he sat back in his chair with a scowl. "Doesn't make McCall any less of a _loser_."

"Strangely, winning doesn't make you any less of an _ass_."

"Okay…" Cole stepped in, hooking an arm around Malia's waist. "Why don't we get something to eat? I'm buying."

Malia dragged her attention away from Jackson and managed a smile. "Careful. You don't know how many nacho platters I can put away."

Grinning, Cole nodded. "Let's find out."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

By the time Malia and Cole returned, Jackson had just finished bowling. Lydia didn't look to be doing any better and Allison had a strike and a spare to her name. While Cole took his turn, Malia sat next to Scott, offering him some of her nachos.

"I think if I eat anything, I'll throw up." He grimaced, one of his knees bouncing nervously. "Why'd I agree to this?"

"You were worried if you said no, Allison would never want to hang out again." Malia shrugged. "You'd be wrong. I kicked her in the shoulder once and she wants to go ice skating with me. Like, with blades... on my _feet_."

Scott snorted and shook his head. "I hate bowling."

"No, you don't. When we were eleven, I dragged you and Stiles to a game, even though you told me a thousand times you sucked at it. We played until closing."

He sat back and sighed. "And I didn't win one game."

"It's not about winning."

He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Says the winner who wins at everything."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Seriously, you know what I remember the most about that night?"

He shook his head.

" _Laughing_. You threw a ball into the gutter in the _next_ lane. I don't even know _how_ , but it was hilarious. And Stiles convinced them to turn the laser lights on and we put the bumpers up, because who cares? We were there to have fun, not show each other up." She smiled. "Nobody's going to think less of you if you suck at bowling."

He stared at her a long beat and then nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

"Well, look whose turn it is now…" Jackson smirked. "Gutterball McCall."

Malia sighed, long and suffering, before focusing on Scott once more. "You can do this. And if you don't, well, there's plenty of nachos to drown your sorrows in."

With a quiet snort, he stood, tugging at the end of his shirt nervously as he moved to the balls once more.

Malia shifted in her seat and offered her platter to Cole. He plucked one off the top and popped it in his mouth. "Still only semi showing off?"

He nodded. "Almost landed another spare."

"Almost?"

"I'm going for a middle ground. Not great at bowling, but also not terrible."

"Does it have anything to do with the fact that Jackson's bragging makes him look extra douchey?"

Cole grinned. "It might, yeah."

"Good call." She looked back to Scott, who was lingering at the front of the lane, head ducked. Allison was watching him worriedly, chewing her lip.

Quietly, so no one but Scott would hear her, Malia said, "Think about the laser lights. Stiles with fries up his nose. Just the three of us and the guy selling smelly, used shoes."

Just as Allison stood from her seat, probably to try and give Scott a pep talk, he took a deep breath and stepped forward. He swung the ball down the lane and, to everyone's surprise, including Malia's, he bowled a strike.

Allison laughed joyfully, clapping her hands together as Scott made his way back to the group. "That was amazing!"

Scott grinned. "Thanks." Taking his seat, he plucked a nacho off Malia's plate and ate it.

Malia bumped her shoulder against his, her heart feeling two sizes too big, swollen with pride.

Cole's brows hiked. "Looks like I might have to up my game a bit."

Malia smiled. "Yeah, looks like."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Six strikes later and Scott was leading the board, which unsurprisingly had Jackson looking pissy. Which didn't seem to improve any when Lydia, deciding to bowl on her own and without Jackson's help, managed a strike of her own.

"That was kind of perfect form," Allison told her, eyes wide.

Lydia feigned surprise. "Was it?"

Leaning in, Allison said, "Maybe you should stop pretending to suck for his benefit."

"Trust me, I do plenty of sucking just for his benefit."

Grimacing, Malia looked at Scott, whose brows had hiked. He pulled a face and she returned it. Definitely more than either of them ever wanted to know about Jackson or Lydia.

"You want a refill?" Cole asked as Malia gave her drink a shake, the ice cubes rattling inside.

"Uh, sure." She handed him the cup. "I can pay for it."

"It's fine." He waved her off before making his way toward the stairs.

Lydia turned a look on Jackson, who rolled his eyes and stood, following Cole dutifully toward the concession.

"So…" As soon as they were out of ear shot, Lydia focused in on Malia. "Remind me again how you managed to bag Cole James?"

"We met at the party on Saturday. I know you saw me, Lydia. We literally talked to each other."

"That's right…" She twirled a ringlet of hair around her finger. "I forgot, you and Danny are all buddy-buddy now." She scrunched up her nose. "Still doesn't explain how you ended up dating a senior."

"Why do you care?"

"I wouldn't say 'care,' per se. It's more of a morbid curiosity..."

Malia sighed, already annoyed. "What are you even asking?"

"Mostly 'how?' Cole doesn't usually play outside of his social pool, so what's so interesting about you that he would?"

"Lydia…" Allison stared at her, mouth set in a frown. "Come on."

"What? It's a serious question. They hang out _once_ at a party and suddenly he's asking her out on a date and running to and from the concession to get her whatever she wants. I mean, he's really pulling out the stops here to impress, so… I guess I'm just wondering what she did to earn it."

" _Hey_." It was Scott, his voice deeper than it seemed any of them were expecting. "That's enough."

Lydia stared at him a beat, seemingly put off by how direct he was being.

Malia leaned over a little, until her arm was pressed to his. "It's fine. Lydia's just pissy because Jackson forgot all his house-training and has to be reminded to do nice things for her."

Lydia's lip curled. "Whatever." She swiveled in her seat, feigning boredom. "Just some advice… A boy like that doesn't slum it unless there's a payoff."

A low growl echoed from Scott's throat. Malia reached for him, her hand hooked in his elbow. "Hey, Scott, they have that pinball game you like. We should check it out. _Now_." Not waiting for a reply, Malia stood, pulling Scott along with her. They moved past the concession and the front desk, turning down a corner that would put a wall between them and the others, safely hiding them from sight.

She looked him over worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Scott leaned against the wall, his head falling back, neck strained and chest heaving a little. "I can't… I just…"

"Hey." She pressed her hands flat against his chest and could feel his heartbeat racing. "Breathe with me, okay?"

He opened his eyes to meet hers and took a deep breath. Together, they held it, and then let it out slowly.

"You remember what worked before?"

"Star Wars, cookies, eyelash, red shirt," he said in a rush.

"Okay, so just, repeat that to yourself." She nodded. "It's just like when I have a panic attack, right? And I say the lyrics to mom's favorite song."

Scott squeezed his eyes closed and nodded. " _She's like a cat_." He fumbled. "Uh, _a cat in the dark and then she is the darkness_."

A slow smile formed on her mouth. " _She rules her life like a fine skylark and when the sky is starless_."

He licked his lips. " _All your life you've never seen a woman taken by the wind._ "

" _Would you stay if she promised you heaven?_ "

He opened his eyes then, his breathing steady. "I think I'm okay."

Relief flooded her. "Good. Because it's cheap night, so half the town is here. I don't think they'd react well to your furry little problem."

He chuckled. "Yeah." His head fell back again and he turned his gaze to the ceiling. "Hey, about what Lydia said—"

"It's fine. She's just being bitchy." Malia stepped back and let her hands fall from his chest. "She's mad because Jackson's in a mood that he's not winning. And anyway, it doesn't matter if Cole has some ulterior motive. Even though I don't think he does. Whatever happens between us, that's a choice I get to make. As of right now, I'm eating my weight in nachos and bowling a pretty good game. I'm not expecting the night to end with fireworks."

"Not after all that processed cheese. That stuff makes you gassy."

Malia laughed and shoved his shoulder. "Shut up."

He chuckled. "It does!"

"Yeah, well, now you're not getting anymore of my nachos. So, I hope you had your fill."

"I mostly tapped out around the second plate. And I think I have an accelerated metabolism, so I don't know where you're putting it."

Rolling her eyes, she scoffed. "I'll run it off later. Now, come on. We should get back before Allison sends out a search party or Jackson just declares himself the winner."

As she started to walk away, Scott's hand hooked around her wrist and tugged her back. "Wait."

Looking back at him, she shook her head slowly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just…" He slid his hand down until their palms met and folded their fingers together, squeezing gently. "Thank you for tonight. I know this whole group date thing was weird. And I probably should've said something to Allison about how much I suck at bowling so we could've done something else. But… You were right. That night when we were kids and we were the only people left in the whole place, it was awesome. I always remember when I was eight and I completely bombed in front of everyone and I just felt like a dork. But… you, me, and Stiles, it was great. Not like tonight. Even with all the strikes, tonight wasn't half as fun. I miss those times, you know? Before the werewolf bite and just all the complications that came with it. I love lacrosse and I'm glad I'm on the team. But, I'd trade all that in to go back to how it was before."

"Scott…" She sighed. "We can't go back. We can't reverse the bite. And we can't be eleven-year-old kids again. But… I'd gladly shut down any bowling alley with you anytime. And so would Stiles. With or without your super _-whatever."_

"I know. And that's why I really appreciate that you were here tonight." He shook his head. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Let's not find out." She pulled at his hand. "Ready?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

They came out from around the corner then and started back toward the group. Cole and Jackson were talking while Allison laughed at something Lydia was saying. It was strange, to watch them from a distance, knowing that they were supposed to be a part of the group but actively feeling like they just weren't. Slowly, the closer they got to them, Malia let go of Scott's hand. She let their fingers unlatch from each other before the tips of hers dragged along his palm. And as her hand fell loose at her side, it bumped against his, knuckles grazing.

"Hey, did you guys get lost?" Allison teased.

"Retro pin ball game. Couldn't pass it up." Malia dropped into the seat next to hers. "Who's up?"

* * *

 **…**

* * *

By the end of the game, Scott walked away the winner. Relieved that he hadn't completely bombed in front of everyone, or shifted and hurt anybody, he was feeling pretty good. While the girls exchanged their shoes and Cole was in the bathroom, Scott spotted Jackson by one of the pinball games. If tonight was a sign of his future, he wondered if he might end up having to spend more time around Jackson and Lydia in future. He wasn't going to lie, they weren't his favorite people, and he had a pretty good idea that they didn't like him either. But, it couldn't hurt to try and make nice, right?

Drumming his hands against his legs, he walked over, watching the game light up. "Nice shot, man."

Jackson turned his head to stare at him; everything about his expression was _sharp_. Dropping his attention back to the game, he shut Scott out.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "Listen, I know we both didn't want to be here. But the thing is, we don't _have_ to hate each other."

"I don't hate you. I just don't _believe_ you. You know, you got everyone thinking everything's fine and normal about you, but I know something's off." He raised an eyebrow. "You _cheated_ tonight."

"How do you cheat in bowling?"

"I don't know, but you _did_." Jackson shrugged. "And I don't know if it's steroids or something weirder. I'm guessing something weirder since it's pretty obvious that you're a freak." He looked him up and down dismissively. "So, don't think for a second I've given up on finding out what your little secret is."

"I don't have any secrets," Scott insisted.

"Yeah, you do." His eyes narrowed. "And I don't think it's too out there to assume that Tate knows what it is."

Scott ground his teeth together. A sharp pulling sensation rippled across his chest. "None of this has anything to do with Malia."

"You keep telling yourself that. But you two running off to whisper in dark corners is a big red flag. I don't care what you do in your personal life, McCall. But when your weirdness starts leaking into _my_ life, I have no choice but do something." With that, he turned back to the game, effectively dismissing Scott.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia looked over at Cole, lit briefly by an orange glow each time they passed a street lamp on the road back to her house. They weren't far now. It helped that most of the police checks had either moved elsewhere or shut down for the night. "So, as far as dates go, how was that?"

"Not the worst I've been on." He half-grinned at her. "A little crowded, but I think we made it work."

"You're not a terrible bowler, so that helped."

"Well, I'm no Scott McCall." His brows hiked. "I don't think I've ever seen that many strikes in a row."

"Yeah, he must've been rusty at first." She looked ahead. "Look, Cole, I wanted to talk about… uh, _things_."

"Vague," he teased, "but okay."

"This whole thing, with the group dates and stuff… It's not really my bag."

"I might've picked up on that." He smiled. "Not big on social interaction?"

"It's never been a priority. I've got my friends and I never really saw the point in making more… Someone recently pointed out that I might've lucked out that way."

"How's that?"

"I found two awesome people when I was ten and we've been friends since. I didn't think I needed anybody else, so I've never really tried. Some people never find that." She shrugged. "Allison and I became friends because she ran my dog over. Danny and I met through tutoring. It all just kind of _happened_."

"That's how it is for some people."

"Yeah. And I'm not complaining. But, I'm still pretty happy with a small group of friends. So, parties and group dates, it's a little much."

"What about one on one dates?"

Chewing her lip, she said, "I like you. I know we have this running _thing_ where you have to work at it, but I'm just going to put my cards on the table." Parked in her driveway now, she unplugged her seatbelt and shifted around to face him better. "You're nice and funny and really good looking. It's a little distracting, actually."

A slow grin pulled at his mouth, but his brows flicked up a moment later. "I feel like a 'but' is coming."

" _But_ …" She shook her head. "I'm not interested in a serious relationship. I'm still getting over someone and I don't think it's fair to you or me if we jump into something."

"Okay…" He nodded slowly. "What about something that _isn't_ serious?"

Her brows raised. "Like…?"

"Like, I like you, too. I think we have fun together. And if you just wanna be casual, I can do that. Hang out, make out, whatever you want." He shrugged. "Or we can be friends. Unless five is too many for you."

She rolled her eyes. "You think we can be friends and still make out?"

He rested an elbow on the door and propped his head on his hand, thumb pressed to an eyebrow. "I think it'll make us better friends."

A warm laugh left her. "Is this the part where we promise not to fall in love with each other?"

"Nah." He grinned. "Only people who end up falling do that…"

Malia chewed her lip. "If things were different, you'd be at the top of my list."

"Yeah?" He chuckled under his breath. "I can live with that."

"Good." She pushed forward then and leaned across the center console. Planting a hand on the door behind him, she dropped her head down, the tips of their noses brushing. "So, what was that about making out?"

His gaze focused on her lips for a beat and then slowly rose to meet hers. "I think I'm going to like this arrangement."

"Yeah?" She ducked down and let her mouth hover just short of his. "Me, too."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia was just walking up the porch, Cole's car taking off down the dirt road, when she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Pulling it out, she smiled as she saw Stiles' face staring back. Answering it, she said, "Hey. I just got home. I was gonna Skype you."

"No time. Listen, Scott took off for Derek's. He said not to follow him, but I'm seriously regretting that…"

"What? _Why?_ "

"I overheard my dad talking to one of his deputies. He left for the hospital because the bus driver succumbed to his injuries. Scott blames Derek. He's not really thinking straight and I'm a little worried he's going to do something."

Backing up down her driveway, Malia turned on her heel to face the forest. "How upset was he?"

"Pretty upset. I mean, he didn't wolf out or anything, but he skipped his bike and just _ran_ toward the woods. That's not a good sign, right?"

Malia sighed. "I'm closer to the Hale house than you are, I'll cut through the woods. But… meet me there. Just in case."

"Got it. I'm on my way." She heard the whine of metal as he snapped his jeep door shut. "And hey…? Be careful all right. I don't know how smart getting in between a couple of werewolves is."

She nodded. "I'll be fine."

With that, she hung up, and started for the trees. It was dark, but she knew the paths pretty well and the light of the moon helped. She started off at a jog, not exactly dressed for a late-night run. But the farther she went, the more her anxiety ramped up. Malia wouldn't exactly call what she felt for Derek 'trust.' He was toning down some of his sketchier personality traits lately and she recognized that he was dealing with a serious problem. But she still felt like he was hoarding information and only doling it out as he saw fit. And then there was the chance that he was just telling her what she wanted to hear in order to control what happened. What she did know was that Scott was having trouble regulating his feelings lately. That he lashed out when he felt cornered or angry, and that Derek was not high on his list of people to turn to. He did so because he had to, because he'd been thrown into something he had no idea how to deal with. The recent attack on the bus driver was just one example of that, and he still wasn't convinced that Derek was an ally.

She wondered if her panic was more out of a fear that Scott was hurt or that he might hurt someone. If he wolfed out on the way to Derek's, he might not even make it there. In fact… He could just be running around the woods like last time. A cold sweat broke out across her skin. He'd controlled it, eventually, but for the time that he hadn't— that he _couldn't_ — she'd felt the chilly realization that she could die. That her best friend could be the one to kill her. That the person she trusted most in the world didn't even recognize her.

It made her run faster.

Whether to get out of the woods, filled with unseen enemies and predators, or to reach the Hale house in order to keep Scott and Derek from tearing each other apart, she wasn't sure. Maybe it was both.

All she knew, was that her legs moved faster than they ever had before. Her arms pumped hard at her sides, hands balled up into fists, nails biting into her palms. Her lungs screamed for air; she sucked in quick bursts, but it did little to soothe her. She could hear rustling all around her; foliage and birds' wings and skittering feet. Or maybe it was her imagination. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her. Trying to build on her fears of what could be out there. An out of control Scott? An alpha out for blood? Or something else. Something worse.

When the eerie outline of the Hale house came into view, she felt a stab of relief. Until she heard the crashing. Malia never slowed. She crossed the lawn in long strides, raced across the porch, and shoved through the front door of the house. Her feet stumbled as she came to a stop in the doorway to what might've once been the living room. There were holes in the wall, bits of splintered wood still dangling from it, as if they were newly made. Given the dusty, torn up look of the two men, she had a good idea why.

She was just in time to see Scott leap off a broken television set, only to have Derek slash him across the chest. Crying out in pain, Scott fell to the ground on his knees.

"What the hell are you doing?" Malia marched into the room, her brow knit. "Are you out of your minds?"

"Malia, get out of here!" Scott told her, an arm banded across his front as he crawled toward a dusty sofa.

"No." She glared at him and then turned on Derek. "What happened to asking for his help, huh?"

"You're the one that said he probably wouldn't go for it, since he wants so badly to be _normal_." Derek bared his teeth at her, his face transformed, making the bridge of his nose flatter, his cheek bones sharper, and his eyebrows furrier. "He came here looking for a fight!"

"So, what, you thought you'd give him one?" She scoffed. "You're supposed to be an adult, act like one."

Scott had pulled himself up onto the sofa and was leaning back against it, panting. "You shouldn't have come here."

"Neither should you!" She whirled on him. "Just because you're a werewolf doesn't mean that you should run off and face these things on your own. We're a team! Which means you bring Stiles or me or _both_ of us. You don't just run into the woods and get into a fight with someone you know is a lot more in control than you are."

He glowered up at her. "He killed Mr. Meyers!"

" _No,_ I didn't." Cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders, Derek returned to his wholly human figure. "Neither of us did."

Scott stared at him, confused. "What?"

"It's not your fault and it's not mine."

" _This?_ " Scott's voice was hoarse with anger. He pushed up from the sofa and walked toward Derek, shouting in his face, "This is _all_ your fault! You ruined my life!"

Derek snarled. "No, I didn't."

"You're the one who bit me."

"No, I'm not."

They were nearly chest to chest, both vibrating with anger, when Malia stepped between them, planted a hand on their chests, and shoved them apart. "Jesus, use your words. Scott, Derek didn't do this. There was someone else."

He squinted at her. "What?" He stumbled back from her then, his eyes darting around and his fingers carefully probing the bloody slash marks across his chest.

"Scott?" She walked toward him, reaching for his arm. "Hey. Are you okay?"

"I…" He stumbled.

"Whoa." Malia hooked an arm around his waist to keep him steady. "Hey, look at me."

Blinking quickly, he raised his chin and met her eyes. "There was another."

"What?"

"Another wolf, it was… I saw them. They attacked Mr. Meyers."

"The alpha." Derek crossed his arms over his chest and turned a look on Malia. "You didn't tell him?"

"I didn't have time. I can't exactly break into casual werewolf talk over bowling." She rolled her eyes. "I was going to fill him in tomorrow. You know, without an audience and so I didn't completely ruin his date."

Derek rolled his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Scott looked from her to Derek and back. "What happened?"

"I saw Derek earlier. He dropped by before Cole picked me up…" She focused on Scott. "The alpha is who bit you and who killed Derek's sister and, apparently, Mr. Meyers… And since he bit you, you're technically part of his pack."

"You and I, we're betas," Derek said. "The difference is, you're his. Which means that you can help me find him."

"How? And why? Why would I help you?"

"Scott…" Malia stared at him. "You came here because you thought Derek killed Meyers. You wanted to have him arrested for the body we found in the woods. Derek's not the killer, but this alpha is. Does that really change anything for you?"

He took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh, turning a hesitant look at Derek. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't." He frowned. "Just like I don't know if I can trust you."

Malia rolled her eyes. "All right, before you two get out measuring sticks… I already offered to help. If there really is some furry killer out there—"

"No. No way," Scott interrupted. "It's too dangerous."

"So?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "You think if I just sit it out, I'll get skipped over? If there's a killer loose that we can't even tell the police about, because seriously, who's even going to believe us? Then isn't it our responsibility to do something about it?" She looked between them. "I don't need fur and claws to decide this for me. I'll borrow Melissa's bat if I have to, but I'm in this fight."

Scott stared at her a long beat, before letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Of course you are." Frowning, he looked to Derek. "Fine. I… _We_ will help you."

Derek nodded. "Good."

The door swung open then, banging against the wall, causing everyone to tense and flinch. But it was just an out of breath Stiles that stumbled into the room, eyes darting around frantically. "What'd I miss?"

Shaking her head fondly, Malia couldn't help but smile. "We'll fill you in on the ride home." She squeezed Scott's waist. "Come on. It's been a long night. We can talk alpha strategy tomorrow."

Scott hooked an arm around her shoulders and walked with her toward Stiles, glancing back at Derek over his shoulder.

"I'll find you," Derek said, answering an unasked question.

"Not ominous at all," Stiles muttered.

Together, the trio made their way outside, walking down the porch and across the yard to Stiles' jeep, parked strangely, with a groove in the ground from his skidded tires.

"I, uh, was a little worried I'd be walking into a blood bath…" He waved a hand. "Wasn't too worried about my park job."

As he circled around to the driver's seat, Malia helped Scott toward the other side. As she did, she caught sight of something in the woods. Turning her head, she stared at the trees. It almost looked like two bright, red eyes were staring back at her. An owl hooted in the distance before its flapping wings rustled the trees. She watched it take off, before looking back to where the eyes were, only to find them missing.

"What's wrong?" Scott's hand squeezed her shoulder. "You see something?"

"Hm? Uh, no. Just…" Malia shook her head. "Spooked, I guess."

"Did you run here?" His brow furrowed. "Through the woods?"

"Yeah, well, Stiles was a little worried you were fighting a werewolf without any back up… and he was right." She pulled the passenger door open for him. "Please don't make me lecture you about team work. I feel like I pulled a serious 'mom' back there and it's kind of making my stomach curdle."

Half-smiling, he nodded. "You were right— I wasn't thinking. I just reacted. And… it wasn't the most thought out plan."

"Does that mean in future you'll include us?" Stiles called from inside the jeep.

Scott looked back and forth between them. "Yeah. Yes. Or… I'll try, anyway." He climbed up into his seat then and Malia moved to the back, pausing once more to stare curiously at the trees. She couldn't see it, whatever it was, but she had the distinct feeling that she was being watched. Casting a quick look back at the Hale house, she finally pulled the door open and climbed into the jeep.

Putting it in drive, Stiles grinned at them. "So, all this werewolf stuff aside, how was the 'hangout?'"

Scott sighed. "I don't suck at bowling anymore, but I'm pretty sure that just made Jackson even more suspicious."

Stiles blinked at him. "I'm gonna need a lot more detail…"

As he started down the dirt road, Malia listened with half an ear as Scott detailed their group 'date,' but her thoughts were elsewhere. Come tomorrow, they would actively be working to track down a killer werewolf. These days, her life only got weirder.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _sorry for the late-ish update. i usually aim for friday/saturday, but sunday was the best i could do. my graduation ceremony from university is this tuesday and i have family in town to celebrate, so i've been pretty distracted and busy. anyway, i hope you enjoyed this update! sorry i haven't had a chance to reply to everyone's reviews. i plan to get to them after i post this. i've just been busy with work and planning everything with family._

 **things to look forward to next chapter** _: plent of friendship, sex and boundaries talk, ice skating, a new face, lurky!derek, and scalia get deep. ;)_

 _thanks so much for reading, please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	11. magic bullet 1

**word count** : 9,658  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : 1x04 - magic bullet

* * *

 **XI**

"So, you're… friends with benefits?" Stiles looked from the road to Malia, his brow furrowed. "And Cole was cool with that? Wait, of course he was cool with that. What guy _wouldn't_ be cool with that?"

"I don't know if I'd call us friends…" Malia shrugged, her attention on the orange she was attempting to peel in one piece. "We're just people with benefits."

"And this was your idea? Right?" He squinted. "Like, you're okay with this?"

She nodded. "Yeah, it's like you said. I wanted to be honest with him. I'm not ready to be in a relationship. It'd be shitty to let him think different when I was still hung up on Scott… This way, we can hang out and do whatever and I don't have to feel guilty."

"And by 'whatever,' you mean…?"

"I mean 'whatever.'" She shook her head. "I'm taking it on an individual basis. Maybe we just make out, maybe we go farther. I'll decide when I get there."

"Right. Sure. Okay." He shifted around in his seat. "So, you're saying you're open to that, though? Like, you've thought about it?"

"Stiles, girls think about sex just as much as boys do." She rolled her eyes. "Men haven't cornered the market on sex and masturbation, even if they like to think they have. Purity is an outdated concept anyway."

"Cool, yeah. Listen, you know I love you, right? Not quite like a sister, because there was that one dream I had when I was thirteen that was totally _not_ brotherly…"

Malia sighed. "Get to the point."

"Right. What I'm saying is that hearing you say masturbation right then might've actually given me a stomach ache. Maybe even the beginning stages of an ulcer." He waved a hand energetically. "Not that I don't think you should be able to whenever you, uh, need to. But maybe I'm not the person you talk to about, uh, _that_. Maybe you could talk to Allison or that blond girl from yesterday. The freshman."

"Erica. And I didn't say I wanted to talk to you about masturbation. All I'm saying is that you shouldn't put women and sexuality up on some unreachable pedestal or something. They get themselves off, trust me. And if I feel like exploring that with Cole, I will. But right now, no. He's a good kisser. We have fun."

Stiles' eyes narrowed. "Uh-huh. Good concept, sure. Just trying really hard not to think of it in relation to _you_ so that I don't have a repeat of the dream… 'Cause if you'll remember, I couldn't look you in the eye for like, a _week_."

"Yeah, it was weird for both of us. And Scott."

"I might've told him more detail than he wanted to hear, but, hey! I was thirteen and I thought I had a crush on you for a second." His eyes widened. "Glad I figured that out early. Just completely normal hormones with no emotional attachment."

Malia snorted. "We were all relieved."

"Hey! I'd be a catch!"

Grinning, she shook her head. "You would be. Just not for me."

"Don't feel bad. There aren't many who could handle all of this."

Malia's mouth twitched. "A rare kind of person."

He grinned. "Exactly."

Malia threw a piece of orange at his face, laughing at it bounced off his cheek and landed in his lap. Without shame, he grabbed it up and popped it in his mouth.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia looked up as a shadow fell across her while she was digging through her locker for her books. Finding a grinning Danny beside her, her brows hiked. "Hey… Don't tell me you're here for a surprise pop quiz."

He snorted. "No." Resting his shoulder against the locker next to hers, he hooked a hand in the strap of his bag. "I wanted to tell you that I took your advice."

"My advice…" She frowned. "I don't remember giving advice. What did I say?"

He rolled his eyes. "I visited my dad at work… mostly so I could meet his boss's son again. He works in the mail room. Anyway, he's a nice guy, and just as cute as I remember."

"Oh!" She smiled slowly. "So… What's that mean?"

"It means I have a date tonight. His name's Adam. I don't know if it'll go anywhere, but I hope it does."

"That's great." Malia shoved a few books in her bag, dug out an apple, and then closed her locker with a snap. "The closest thing I've had to a real date involved five people, so I hope you're not here for any wisdom on what to do."

"No." He pushed off the lockers and they started walking together. "Well, maybe."

"About what?" She looked up at him. "Danny, you're basically everyone's favorite person. You're smart and funny and obnoxiously good looking."

His eyebrows arched. "Obnoxiously?"

"You told me you went running while you had a hangover." She snorted. "Who does that? Obnoxiously hot people."

"I also threw up in the bushes a few times," he pointed out. "Not exactly attractive."

"Sure you did. And your vomit probably smelled like fresh daisies." She rolled her eyes. "My point is, you have nothing to worry about. Adam's the lucky one."

Danny smiled. "Thanks for the ego boost, but… I don't know. I'm still a little freaked out. I mean, I've dated before. But this feels different."

"It's probably just the anticipation."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you've been putting it off for a while, so you've probably thought about what it would be like or what _he_ might be like. And now that you're getting a chance to be with the real Adam and not just whoever you cooked up in your head, you're not sure what to expect. Maybe he's super weird or has some kind of crazy fetish."

"Probably won't find that out on the first date. Fetishes come in after at _least_ two dates," he joked.

Malia laughed. "Sure. Hide the weird for a date or two and then toss it out there while you're both wrist deep in popcorn."

"Exactly." He bumped her shoulder with his elbow. "Speaking of dates… how was yours?"

"Weird, honestly. It started off okay. Jackson was being a dick, Lydia was pretending to suck at bowling, Scott actually _was_ sucking..." She looked up at him. "Have you ever had a friends-with-benefits thing with anyone?"

He paused, surprised by the question. "Uhh… Yeah. Why?"

"Well, I told Cole I wasn't really interested in anything serious. Because I'm not. And I don't want to lead him on. But then I was talking to Stiles earlier about what 'benefits' really means and…"

"And you're not sure if Cole is expecting sex?" Danny smiled gently. "Sounds like something you should talk to him about."

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I know. I just… I feel weird. Like, we're not dating, but we're still something. I don't know. I've never done this."

Danny hummed. "Do you _want_ to do this?"

"I mean… Yeah." She frowned. "It's not that I don't want a relationship with all the sappy love stuff and the hand holding and the mushy words or whatever. I just…"

"Don't want it with Cole." He nodded knowingly. "So, treat it like training wheels."

She frowned. "Huh?"

"When you can't ride the bike on your own yet, but you want to learn the basics, you throw some training wheels on and build up some muscle memory. Then, when you're ready, you take them off and see what happens. Sometimes you fall off, cry, and try again. And sometimes you get it right."

"Okay, and without the metaphor?"

Danny wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side, squeezing her gently. "Only do what you're ready to do. There's still a chance you'll get hurt in the end, but it's better to go at your own pace than anybody else's. When you're ready, go for it."

"'It' being sex or a relationship?"

"Whatever you want it to be."

Malia tipped her head back and groaned. "Why is this so complicated?"

"Entertainment?"

She glared at him, but Danny merely grinned.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

At lunch, Malia was happy to find herself outside, sitting in the grass, tucked against her favorite tree, far from the noise and chaos of the cafeteria. Sitting across from her was Allison, who was eating a cold slice of leftover pizza.

"Who's Kate again?"

"My dad's sister." Allison beamed. "She's _amazing_ , you'll love her. She's just so… strong and smart and pretty much everything I've ever wanted to be."

Malia crossed her legs at the ankle, brows hiked. "Big words."

"Yeah, I know. I just, I always really connected with her. She's more like a big sister than an aunt." Allison shrugged. "Anyway, I really want you to meet her. You kind of remind me of her, actually."

"Really?" Malia pulled a face. True, she didn't know Kate Argent, but given that the Argents were apparently hunters, she was a little unsure if she liked the comparison. "Why?"

"Well, you're both confident and sure of yourselves. Like, you don't let anyone tell you what to do. You just are who you are. That's pretty admirable." Allison tucked her hair behind her ear. "So? Will you? She'll be here sometime tomorrow, you could come over for dinner on Friday!"

"Uh, sure, yeah." Malia nodded. "But now that you've talked her up and compared us, I'm going to have some high standards."

Laughing, Allison rolled her eyes. "Trust me. You'll get along great."

"Cool. So, what're you doing tonight?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Nothing. Why? You got an idea?"

"Well, you mentioned wanting to go skating… I thought we could check the rink out."

"Ooh, _yes!_ " Allison nodded. "I'll ask Lydia. We have class together after lunch."

Malia scrunched up her nose. "If she wants to come, sure."

Allison stared at her knowingly. "You guys were making progress… Is this about what she said last night?"

"You mean about how I have to be putting out to keep Cole's attention?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not taking it too personally. Lydia gets snippy when she feels threatened. And since you and Scott were definitely kicking their ass at bowling, she went for the lame horse."

"You're hardly lame." Allison picked a mushroom off her pizza and tossed it away. "You know she's wrong, right?"

"Is she?"

Allison frowned. "I don't really know Cole. He seemed nice enough. But… I mean, bottom line, if that is all he wants, you deserve better."

"Thank you. I don't think it is, and I don't know if we even will. But, you're right. I mean, I like him. But I don't think sex is on the table. Not right now."

Allison hummed. "You know, when I first moved here, I told myself I wasn't going to date. I was going to focus on school and make friends and leave all this dating stuff for college… Sometimes I think that'd be easier. There's just so much expectation when it comes to relationships. You never really know if you're doing it right or what's normal." Her eyes widened. "Don't get me wrong. I really like Scott. I just… I don't know. I think there has to be a balance. Life and school and friends and dating. I don't want to be one of those people that prioritizes their boyfriend or girlfriend over their friends, you know?"

"I don't think you are. You make a lot of time for me and Lydia. You do your own thing. And when you want to hang out with Scott, you do."

"I guess that's easy to say when we've only had one date." She half-smiled. "I just like how it is now. I guess I don't want it to change."

"Are you worried I'm going to start spending all my free time with Cole? Because I won't. I just saw him yesterday, that should last me at _least_ a week."

Allison snorted. "Uh-huh." She shook her head. "I'm being overemotional, ignore me."

"It's fine. You had no friends when you got here and you said that's what you always wanted, right? At least one friend that would stick with you through everything. I think between me and Lydia, we've got you covered. Starting with our all-girls skating night."

Grinning, Allison nodded. "You're right."

Malia held out a baggie of chips and shook it at her.

With a laugh, Allison dug inside and pulled a few out. "Cheers."

Malia raised a chip of her own, winked, and tossed it in her mouth.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"What do you mean you're busy tonight? With what? Or who? Is it a who?" Stiles stared at her curiously as they walked out of the school. "Is it Cole? Are we being replaced by your person with benefits?"

Scott pulled a face. "Person with benefits...?"

"That's what she called him. They're not ' _together_ -together.'" Stiles rolled his eyes. "They're just having 'fun.'"

"Quit with the finger quotes." Malia slapped at his hands. "And I'm not replacing you with Cole. I'm not even hanging out with Cole. I'm going skating."

"Skating?" Scott's brow furrowed. "With Allison?"

"And Lydia. She sent me a text. I don't even know how she got my phone number, but she said she'd meet us at the rink at six."

Scott hummed. "I thought you didn't like skating."

"I don't like being _cold_." Malia shrugged. "I'll bundle up. Allison was pretty excited about it and I'm not terrible at skating, so…"

"So, just you three. No Jackson?" Stiles looked interested. "I can skate…"

"Sure, you can. Any night but tonight." Malia looked over at him knowingly. "It's girls only."

"What? Says who? The ice rink is open to the public!"

"And if you crash our girls' night, I'll open your _face_ to the public."

Stiles scoffed and threw a hand up. "Why do you always resort to violence?"

"Because it works." She shrugged. "Look, we can hang out tomorrow. Pizza and a movie or something."

Scott nodded. "I'm up for that."

"Fine." Stiles frowned. "But would it kill you to talk me up a bit to Lydia?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "If I see an opening, I'll take it."

"Good, yes." He brightened, brows arched and a grin pulling up one corner of his mouth. "That's all I ask."

"Hey! Stiles!" a classmate called out.

Stiles pivoted on his heel and frowned. "Uh, I'll be right back. We're working on a project together. It's due this weekend."

As he walked off, Malia turned to Scott. "You've got a shift at the clinic?"

"Yeah." He nodded, his thumbs hooked in the straps of his backpack. "Until eight. Then I'm gonna drop some dinner off for mom."

"Good. She'll like that." Malia smiled. "Tell her I say hi."

"I will."

Malia chewed her lip. "So, have you heard from Derek at all?"

He sighed. "No. Nothing." His brow furrowed. "I don't know what he's expecting. How am I supposed to help him find this alpha if I don't even know who it is?"

She shrugged. "Some weird werewolf echolocation or something?"

He snorted. "Yeah. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised."

Malia reached out, her fingers wrapping around the cuff of his sweater and tugging gently. "I know you're overwhelmed with all this werewolf stuff—"

"Would you be?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… Stiles, he loves this stuff. If he was bit, he'd be celebrating it. And you… You always seem to know what to do. All this stuff with Derek, it freaks me out. But you're not scared of him. Not really. And when I start shifting, you're always so calm. You just… you face it, even when you know it could hurt you."

"That's different."

" _Why?_ "

"Because…" She shook her head, her brow furrowed. "It's _you_. And I know you think you can't handle it or you can't control yourself, but I've seen you do it. And if Derek can do it, then so can you." She stepped a little closer, glancing around to make sure none of the other students were close enough to overhear them. "It's not that I'm not scared. I get scared all the time. When I was running through the woods to get to Derek's house, I was worried you were hurt or something was out there with me. I worry about my dad constantly. I worry about you and Stiles and your mom. I worry about what the alpha might do if it figures out you're helping Derek. Or what it'll do if no one stops it. But, I also know that we're doing something about that. Or we want to, anyway. As soon as Derek gives us something _to_ do."

Sighing, Scott stared at her searchingly. "Being close to me, working with Derek, that could put you right in this alpha's path... That's not safe. That's the exact opposite."

"Maybe it isn't, but you're a lot better off with me than without me." She shrugged. "Look, I don't know what I'd do if I were in your shoes. Your whole life has been turned upside down, that takes some getting used to. For all we know, I'd be a terrible werewolf. What I do know is that if you're taking this thing on, then so am I."

He stared at her a long beat and then sighed. "I know."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't look so enthusiastic."

Scott shook his head. "You're right. We're better together. But I can't help but think you'd be safer away from me."

"Let me worry about my safety."

He half-smiled. "We're a team, right? You worry about me, I worry about you. That's how it works."

"You two look _intense_." Stiles appeared next to them, brows raised. "What's up?"

Malia turned to him. "Just reminding Scott that we're all going to solve this alpha junk together."

"She's right, buddy." Stiles patted Scott's chest. "All for one and one for all."

Malia smothered a smile, remembering Derek's Three Musketeers reference not so long ago.

"Hey, that reminds me… If Derek isn't the Alpha, if he's not the one who bit you, then who did?"

Scott's shoulders slumped. "I don't know."

Stiles nodded. "But the alpha definitely killed the bus driver? Or are there _more_ wolves out there?"

"We're pretty sure it was the alpha." Malia shrugged. "Derek thinks it's the start of some kind of murder spree."

"Right. And it killed Derek's sister to become an alpha so it _could_ or…?"

"You don't have to be an alpha to kill someone, but you're stronger."

"Okay…" Stiles pursed his lips and looked to Scott. "So, do you think Allison's dad knows about the alpha then?"

"I don't know!" Scott threw his hands up. "I don't know anything. _Malia_ knows more than me."

She shrugged. "Only because I actually talk to Derek."

"Right." Scott glowered. "I forgot he showed up at your house before your date. Because he's so familiar with you that it doesn't raise any red flags."

Malia's gaze flattened. "Are you seriously pissed about that?"

"Personally, I'm still not sold on the 'Derek's a good guy' theory." Stiles raised a hand. "So, I'd be a little worried about you inviting him over, too."

"I didn't _invite_ him. He showed up."

Scott's eyes widened. "And you let him in!"

"Yeah, and he told me more about what's been going on than we've learned in the last couple weeks. Look, I know you guys think it's a bad idea to trust him, but we need to know what's happening. I'm not going to keep arguing with you about this. Derek has answers that we _need_. And he's the only one that can help us track down this alpha and stop it before it hurts anyone else."

"What if we can't?" Stiles wondered, gaze darting between them. "What if all we do is piss this thing off?"

"Standing around hoping it doesn't kill or bite anyone isn't really an option." Malia stared them down "So, either get on board or don't. But, I'm not going to just let this happen, and I know both of you well enough to know you won't either." Marching past them, she walked toward the parking lot.

"I thought I was giving you a ride!" Stiles called after her.

"I changed my mind," she shouted over her shoulder.

Stiles frowned, while Scott stared after her, his brow furrowed.

Malia kept walking, only coming to an abrupt stop when a car pulled in front of her.

The window rolled down, revealing a grinning Danny. "Hey. Hop in."

Malia didn't hesitate. Pulling her bag off her shoulder, she hopped into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed behind her with a snap. "Don't you have a date?"

"Not until later." He looked from her toward the two boys. "Things okay?"

"Yeah, it's nothing."

He hesitated a beat and then nodded. "If you say so."

As he pulled the car away, Malia couldn't help but look back. Scott was walking to his bike, his head down, while Stiles cut toward his jeep, fiddling with his keys. She knew they'd come around. As much as Scott didn't want to be a werewolf, he was one, and it was his alpha that was terrorizing the town. There were already two bodies wracked up and she had a good idea that more were coming. They had to do something.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"For the record, I haven't been skating in a while."

Allison looked over from where she was seated on a bench, still lacing up her skates. Her hair was pulled into a bun atop her head, a green scarf wrapped snug around her neck, and dangling silver earrings caught the light whenever she moved. "Is that a warning you're going to suck at it?"

Malia snorted. "Will you hold my hand if I say yes?"

Allison grinned. "Absolutely. But if you go down, try not to take me with you."

"No promises."

"Are you two ready yet?" Lydia was already on the ice. She rested her arms over the lip of the wall, an eyebrow raised as she looked between them. She'd arrived a good half hour before they had, apparently wanting to get the 'good' ice, before all the other people had scuffed it up. Whatever that meant.

"Just about." Allison adjusted her jeans over the tops of her skates and carefully stood, testing her weight from side to side to see how steady she was. "Well?" She held a hand out to Malia.

With a heavy sigh, Malia took it, letting Allison tow her up from the bench.

"I thought you said you could skate." Lydia sniffed. "I'm not hanging around if you get sloppy and keep dragging us down."

"Sometimes your empathy is so thick, I think I'm drowning in it." Malia rolled her eyes. "It's just been a while. Anyway, if I'm taking anyone down, it's Allison."

Lydia scoffed, raising her chin in offense. "You don't think I could teach you to skate?"

"I think if you wanted to, you could get me winter Olympics ready in a weekend."

Lydia smirked smugly.

"I just prefer a softer touch." She winked at Allison, teasingly.

Lydia's brows hiked. "I've noticed."

Confused, Malia looked back at Lydia, who had released her hold no the wall and was skating backwards, away from them. Leaving her vague comment to sit and fester.

Shaking her head, Malia looked back to Allison. "Okay. Just remember that I have blades on my feet. For all intents and purposes... I am a weapon."

Amused, Allison nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

Calmly, Allison stepped out onto the ice and swiveled around to face Malia, who stood ram-rod straight between the open gate. It wasn't that Malia had never skated. She had. It was the initial step out onto the ice that mostly freaked her out. The uncertainty over whether she would stay upright or faceplant herself on the hard, unforgiving ice.

"It's okay. I've got you," Allison promised. Her voice was steady and sure, and her expression was kind.

It settled in Malia's stomach like a lead rock. Not that she didn't appreciate Allison's approach. But that she was feeling afraid at all. That her nerves were so obvious when she could clearly see small children rushing around the ice, not entirely steady but all too sure of themselves. Letting out a frustrated breath, Malia stepped forward, her arms out to keep herself balanced. Allison kept close to her, ready to reach out and grab her if she pitched in either direction.

"You're overthinking it." Allison shook her head. "Think about something else."

"If you say 'imagine everyone in here in their underwear,' I'll call social services on you. Think of the children!"

Giving a huff of a laugh, Allison rolled her eyes. "Think about something you like or something that makes you feel strong."

"Solid ground."

" _Okay_... think of it like gymnastics. You hadn't been to the gym in years, but once you did, you were flipping all over the place. It's just that first few steps that are scary. But once you get past that, muscle memory kicks in." Allison skated backwards and held her hands out for Malia to take.

Malia eyed them and then slowly brought her arms forward. But just as her fingers brushed Allison's, she backed up an inch. Eyes narrowed, Malia sighed, and slowly brought her left foot forward. It was shaky, but she glided a little forward without falling.

"See?" Allison beamed at her. "Now, do it again."

Malia moved her right foot in the same fashion. She was sure she looked like a baby deer taking its first wobbling steps, but the 'not breaking her nose on the ice' part was encouraging.

At least until she saw Lydia doing majestic twirls in the background. She moved across the ice like a ballerina would a studio, with perfect balance and symmetry. It was utterly obnoxious. And enviable.

Grumbling under her breath, Malia shot a stink-eye at Lydia.

"Hey, ignore her. She's had practice." Allison waved her fingers to draw her attention. "Come on."

Taking a deep breath, Malia pushed forward. She could never quite reach Allison, but that was okay, because with each move, she felt her legs grow a little steadier, her knees stopped wobbling, her ankles felt a little more snug, and that pit in her stomach began to close. She would never be to the same standard as Lydia, but she had to admit... it was fun.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After a couple hours of skating, Malia's thighs were burning. Allison and Lydia were still going strong, skating circles around each other, while Malia had retired herself to the benches. She shucked her gloves and jacket, but left her scarf on. Sprawled out on her back, one skate still on while the other was abandoned to the floor, she had an arm tossed over her face and was contemplating a nap. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure she _wasn't_ napping. At least until—

"You can't sleep here," a deep voice said.

Malia startled and raised her arm a bit to peek out at who was speaking. A tall, broad shouldered boy stood just short of her outstretched foot, wool sock sagging and a toe peeking out from a hole at the top. Dark skin and an unamused frown stared back at her. "You look familiar," she said.

"And you look like the homeless guy that sleeps behind the building."

"Are you judging me by my holy sock?" She tucked her arm behind her head and wiggled her loose toe at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "You've got one shoe on, a hole in your sock, and I think that's mustard on your shirt."

Malia lifted up the end of her shirt to see that, yeah, okay, that _was_ mustard... In her defense, she was in a hurry to eat a hot dog before Allison picked her up for skating. "All right, mysterious guy judging my fashion and food choices... Who are you?"

"Boyd. I work here."

"Hello, Boyd Who Works Here, I'm Malia."

"I know." He stared at her a beat. "We go to the same school."

She snapped her fingers and pointed at him. "So, I _do_ know you from somewhere."

"The halls maybe, in passing." He tucked his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and shrugged. "You're not much of a skater."

"Well, your personal skills are a little rusty, so we're even." She sat up then and bent to untie her skate, dropping it to the floor next to the other one. "So, what do you do around here, Boyd? Besides waking people up from their post-skating naps."

"I clean the ice."

Malia's eyes lit up. "Are you telling me that you have full control and access to a Zamboni?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah."

"I think we should be friends. Or very friendly acquaintances, at least."

"I'm not letting you drive the Zamboni."

"We'll see." Drawing her legs up onto the bench, Malia crossed them and rested her hands on her knees. "Do you ever skate after hours?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes, if the ice isn't too rough. It's better in here when no one's around. _Quieter_."

She squinted at him and nodded. "You look like a quiet guy."

"Can be."

"Not much for small talk, huh?"

"Are you?"

She grinned. "No. Not really." She stared at him a beat. Something about him was familiar, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it was like he said, they'd seen each other in the halls in passing. "Is it almost closing time? Is that why you woke me up?"

"There's a hockey practice tonight. Free skate hours end early on Wednesdays."

Looking out to the ice, Malia found that it was really only Allison and Lydia still skating. Lydia wasn't being fancy about it anymore, simply doing wide circles, her head tipped back as she glided effortlessly.

"She's good," Boyd said.

"You don't have to rub it in." Malia rolled her eyes. "Lydia has an annoying habit of being good at most things."

"Wish I could say the same."

"Don't we all." She sighed and then turned sideway on the bench. " _Hey_ , Sally Skaters!" She waved to get the girls' attention. "Time's up."

Allison made her way over, smiling warmly. But Lydia merely waved dismissively, deciding to do one more lap.

As Allison stepped through the gate, a little out of breath with her cheeks extra pink, Malia looked up, ready to introduce her to the low-key Boyd, only to find he'd left at some point. A surprise, given that he wasn't exactly a small guy. She thought she would've heard him as he went. Shrugging, she returned her attention to Allison. "You have fun?"

Allison nodded. "It was _great_." Plopping down on the bench, she slumped sideways to rest her head on Malia's shoulder. "Did you?"

"Yeah, I did." She half-smiled. "Not sure I have the same stamina as you two, but it was good."

"Lydia outskates us both."

Lydia finished off her time on the ice with a figure eight, eventually making her way to the gate to join them. Like Allison, her face was flushed. There was a brightness to her eyes that said just how much she'd enjoyed being on the ice. Joining them on the bench, she carefully unlaced her skates, a pair she'd brought with her, readjusted her socks, and pulled her regular shoes back on. "Well, what are we doing now? I'm hungry."

Malia shrugged. "I could eat."

"I want real food." Lydia unwrapped her scarf from her neck. "Not fast food."

Malia's mouth quirked. "Only the best for you, Princess."

Rolling her eyes, Lydia stood, raising an impatient eyebrow at them. "We can go to Rizzo's."

Allison looked up curiously. "Isn't that a pizza place?"

"It's Italian. They make a great pasta, too."

"Okay." Allison looked to Malia, who nodded. "Sounds good."

Pulling on her boots, Malia hopped off the bench. "I'm gonna go turn these in. I'll meet you in the parking lot."

Allison waved before bending to unlace her skates.

The front desk was basically deserted, but there was a silver bell to ring for assistance, so she tapped it a few times with her fingers and rested her crossed arms on the counter, casting her eyes around for anyone. Finally, from deep in the aisles, Boyd appeared, looking just as unenthused as ever.

"So, you run front desk _and_ the Zamboni? Impressive."

He snorted before coming to a stop in front of her. He held his hand out for the skates, checked the number written on the inside of the tongue, and then wrote something on a clipboard. "All right. You're good to go."

"What if I never returned them? Is there like, a security tag on it somewhere?"

He blinked. "Yes. Armed guards would chase you down in the parking lot."

"With ice pistols?"

His mouth twitched and he shook his head. "We mostly work on an honor system. We take your name and address when you sign in, so it's not hard for the Sheriff's department to find you if you did run off. Why you'd want to steal used skates, I don't know."

"Sometimes people make poor life choices." She shrugged. "It'd make more sense if we had to trade our shoes in and when we brought the skates back, we got our shoes back."

"Did you want to put that in the suggestion box?"

Her eyes narrowed and she tipped her head. "Do you _have_ a suggestion box?"

A slow grin formed. "No."

"Malia!"

She turned her head then and found Lydia staring at her with raised brows and a hand on her hip. "Today!?"

Rolling her eyes, Malia turned back to Boyd. "Enjoy your Zamboni'ing."

"I will."

Malia turned on her heel and walked over to meet Lydia. "You didn't have to wait."

"I'm starving. Every minute you waste means I'm not eating." Pulling her jacket on, she flipped her hair out from the back and marched toward the doors. "Allison's already at her car."

"I wasn't _that_ long."

"You were long enough."

Malia sighed and followed after her. "You were pretty good out there, you know."

Lydia looked back at her and pulled a face. "What?"

"Skating. You were pretty good."

"I should be. My parents put me in professional skating classes for five years."

"Why'd you stop?"

"It was taking up too much time. School picked up and I had to choose."

Malia stared at her a moment. "You looked pretty happy."

"Who isn't happy when they're doing something they're good at?"

Shrugging, Malia pushed the door open and let Lydia out before her. "You think you would've gone pro?"

Haughty now, Lydia smirked. "Of course. But, getting a Field's medal will be an even better accomplishment."

"If you say so."

"I do."

While Lydia marched off to her car, Malia split away to walk to Allison's. Music blared as she pulled the passenger door open and hopped inside. "Sorry. Nobody was at the front desk and apparently I'm the only one around that doesn't own a pair of skates."

Allison grinned. "If we come back and you still like it, maybe it can be a birthday present."

"Well, nobody died and my legs stopped shaking eventually, so, all in all, it wasn't terrible."

Pulling out of her parking space, Allison snorted. "That's the spirit."

* * *

 **...**

* * *

By the time Malia got home, it was already pretty late. Well past the enforced curfew, which meant Allison was in a hurry to get home before her dad got on her case about it. Malia was surprised to see her own dad home, sitting at the kitchen table eating a steaming bowl of stew, his reading glasses on and the morning newspaper open in front of him.

"Hey," she greeted, her brow furrowed.

"Hey." He laid his paper down and frowned. "You know there's a curfew, right?"

"We lost track of time. We went skating and then out to dinner and before I knew it, it was ten." She filled Shiloh's food bowl before grabbing up the empty water bowl and bringing it to the sink for a refill. "It's not that big of a deal. I doubt a mountain lion was going to chase us down at Rizzo's."

There was a pause before he asked, "You went to Rizzo's?"

"Yeah. It was Lydia's idea. She loves their chicken, mushroom linguine, fettucine, or something like that. I don't know, it was pasta. Good breadsticks, though."

"Your mom loved that place. We used to take you girls there every Tuesday. Half-off kid's pizzas."

A lump formed in Malia's throat. She switched the tap off and turned. "Yeah. I remember."

Henry stared down at his stew, stirring his spoon absently. "Was it any good?"

She nodded. "I had the pizza. Pepperoni, ham, extra—"

"Sauce. Yeah." He smiled. "They put so much on, it'd drip out, burn your chin."

"Still does." She brought Shiloh's water over and placed it by her food, where she was happily munching away. Scrubbing her fingers over Shiloh's head, she looked up at her dad. "We should go sometime, you and me... They still make that four-cheese lasagna you like, with the spinach and cottage cheese."

He nodded. "Yeah. We should." He spooned a bite of stew into his mouth and stared at the table, a divot forming between his brows. He got like that sometimes, eyes a little glazed as he drifted into memories of their family, of ' _before_.'

With a sigh, she turned on her heel and made her way to her bedroom, quietly closing her door behind her. There was a small desire to slam it. To wake him up out of his haunting stupor. Instead, she let him drown in it. Some people just couldn't let go.

She wondered if she was one of them.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia had just climbed into bed, finally finished her homework and eager to get some sleep, when she heard her phone buzz atop her bedside table. With a sigh, she reached for it, tucking an arm behind her head as she stared at the screen. A lone text from Scott stared back at her— ' _can i call you?'_

It was quickly followed by another— ' _please_ '

Chewing her lip, she hesitated for a moment. But with a few flicks of her thumb, she'd unlocked her phone and was picking his name from her favorites list, drawing the phone back to her ear as it rang.

"Hey." His voice was quiet, as if trying not to disturb the peace. But her dad was long passed out and his mom was probably working a late shift at the hospital, so she wasn't nearly as concerned.

Tucking an arm behind her head, she said, "I guess a late-night phone call is better than you running around town whenever you need to talk."

He snorted. "It's not really 'around town' if the only place I ever go is yours."

Her mouth pulled up at the corner, but she shook her head. "What's up? Did you hear from Derek?"

"No, not yet." He paused. "How, uh, how was skating?"

"Good. Slightly demotivating. Allison and Lydia are ridiculously good at it. But, it was fun. We went to Rizzo's for dinner after."

"Rizzo's? I haven't been there in years. How was it?"

"Good. Hasn't changed much since I was a kid. I was surprised Lydia liked it. I'm pretty sure they have the same booth seats they had when I was little. They're not much into remodeling."

"I guess the food makes up for the décor."

She smiled, but it faded quick. "All right, I know you didn't call to talk about skating or Rizzo's…"

"I could've. I like hearing about your day."

Malia bit her lip and turned her gaze to the ceiling. Sometimes, Malia forgot how genuine Scott could be. How simple words could mean so much. Maybe it was leftover from feeling like her dad was never invested enough to ask how school was or what was going on in her life. Henry was trying more lately, but it was sporadic. With Scott, he meant it. And the truth was, when they weren't together, she noticed his absence. It didn't suffocate the time she had with others. When she was skating with Allison, she wasn't wishing she was somewhere else. She just wondered what it would be like to see Scott attempt skating. Would he be worse or better than her? Would he have fun? Would his new reflexes make it easy for him to move around the ice with as much grace as Lydia? Or were there some things even werewolf reflexes couldn't make up for?

"My day was good. I met someone at the rink. I don't think we'll be besties anytime soon, but he was funny."

"Yeah?" Scott paused. "Met someone like… Cole or…?"

"I mean, he basically compared me to the homeless guy that sleeps behind the rink, so I doubt he wants to hook up."

Scott snorted a laugh. " _Why?_ "

"I fell asleep on the bench. Skating is a lot of work. And we were on the ice for a while. It was _exhausting_."

His voice was amused as he reminded her, "You run track."

"It's different when there are knives on your feet!"

He chuckled. "All right, if you say so."

She grinned. "Keep it up and I'll strap you into a pair of skates and see how you like it."

"I'm glad you had fun… Seems like you and Lydia are hanging out more."

"That's kind of a side effect of being friends with Allison. Just like putting up with Jackson." She pursed her lips. "It's worth it, though. Allison's great."

"Yeah, she is. She's…" He sighed. Was it wistful? She wasn't sure. " _Great_."

Malia closed her eyes for a moment, squeezing them shut and waiting for the awkward moment when Scott launched into a soliloquy on how amazing and perfect and special Allison was. And the worst part was that she couldn't disagree. She just didn't want to hear Scott wax poetic about her, not when things still felt a little too raw. How long was love supposed to last if it wasn't returned? Was there a 'best before' date or something? How long would it take to fade or scar over? She hated not knowing. This day-to-day stuff just wasn't working for her.

"Look, about what you said after school, I've been thinking about it… And you're right. You usually are."

Malia's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Having Derek as an enemy, _avoiding_ him, it's not going to fix anything. I'm not sure I trust him and I _hate_ that you're the one he always goes to, because I… I'm not there. I can't do anything if he hurts you."

"Scott—"

"No, listen. I trust you. I know that you're strong and, if any of us can take on a werewolf or an alpha or whatever, it's probably you. But that doesn't stop me from worrying about you. Lately, it feels like that's all I do. I worry about what Derek might do or this alpha or even _me_. And I worry about you getting caught in the crossfire or even throwing yourself right into the middle of something we can't handle. And I know it doesn't change anything, but a part of me just can't stop hoping it's going to stop. That things will go back to how they used to be. Just you, me, and Stiles. And we could leave all this werewolf stuff behind."

Malia pulled her arm out from behind her head and rubbed her hand over her forehead. "I know. Sometimes I do, too."

"You do?" He sounded surprised, maybe even confused. "But you're handling it so much better than me."

"Because I have to. Because it's better to just face it and deal with it than to hide from it."

"Yeah, you're right." He sighed. "Do you think… It's not that I don't want to catch the alpha or stop them. _I do_. I just… Every time I do something like this, I feel like I'm accepting it. I don't know if I can undo this. If there's a way to _stop_ being a wolf. But when we do this stuff, when we talk to Derek or we work on my control, I just think… this is it. This is who I am now. And that scares me. Because I don't _know_ who I am. I don't know what that makes me. And even though I want to do this and I want to keep this alpha from hurting anyone, I feel like if I do, it's over. There's no going back." He sighed. "Does that make me a bad person? Am I putting myself first? Like, the people that died just don't matter or…?"

"No. I know you care. You're physically incapable of _not_ caring. I just think it's hard to readjust. It's not like you had a choice in this. Someone took that away from you. But… Look, Scott, you're always going to be my best friend. That was true when you were an asthmatic human and it's true now that you're a scruffy werewolf. Your new normal isn't something we can Google, so we have to ask questions and get prepared. Otherwise, we're going into this blind and that's not doing anyone any favors."

He was quiet for a long moment, the silence stretching between them. It wasn't uncomfortable. There were a thousand conversations in their past that had pauses just like this. Where the pressure to speak wasn't present, but the awareness that they were still there, tethered to each other across the distance, was a comfort.

Eventually, he broke the quiet. "You remember that night we dug up the grave outside of Derek's?"

"I don't think I'll forget it."

"We talked about how we always wanted to be superheroes when we were kids and how my power was healing… I think I chose it because of my mom. Because she saves people and I… I don't know, I just always admired that about her."

"She doesn't need powers to be a hero."

"Exactly." He took a deep breath. "Yours was always strength. And you've always been the strongest of us. Even now. I might be physically stronger, but you… Malia, you're the strongest person I know. After everything you've been through and everything that's been happening, you always get back up and you face it. When you're scared or hurt or you don't know what to do, you just take on whatever's standing in your way."

"You make me sound better than I am. I'm just human."

"That makes it _more_ special. You can break, but you don't let yourself."

She swallowed tightly, a lump forming in her throat. "I've been broken before. I know what it feels like."

At ten years old, Malia had been a shell of herself. Prone to crying or yelling, depending on the day. She'd been lost and angry and empty. Her regrets and fears and unending grief had swallowed her whole and threatened to drown her. Some days, it felt like there was no coming back from it. But she'd dug herself up out of that pit of despair, hardened and distant, but alive. And over the years, she'd healed some. A lot more than she ever expected. The scars of her loss still ran deep, though. They clung to her, a warning and a reminder of what could happen if she got too close, wanted too much, loved too deep. Nothing was forever. Anyone could be lost.

"I know. And I know that if we're going to do this, if we're going to find or fight or just try to survive this whole alpha werewolf _thing_ , then it has to be together. I don't want to keep running away or hiding from this. So, if I do, I want you to tell me. Because I know you'll be honest with me."

Malia nodded, her heart feeling like it was sinking to die a fiery death in her stomach acid. "Always." Except that every day she walked around with this enormous secret, knowing that her feelings for him went well beyond what they thought, it felt like she was lying to him in a way. And it hurt.

She turned over onto her side then and reached for the lamp, turning it off with a twist of her fingers. Laying the phone down on the bed, she turned the speaker on and rested her head on her pillow.

Scott's voice was quiet, a warm hum in an otherwise silent house. "I can hear your heartbeat."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm." He let out a soft sigh. "It sounds different."

Her eyes fell to half-mast, a tiny furrow forming between her brows. "Different? Why? Do I have a murmur or something?"

"No. Nothing like that. It just… I don't know. It doesn't sound like all the rest… Maybe it's you. Maybe you're special."

Her mouth kicked up faintly. "Maybe."

"I like it. I like that I can tell you apart from the rest." He paused. "Don't hang up, okay?"

Her eyes fell closed. "I won't." She willed herself to stay awake. "Tell me about your day. What happened at the clinic?"

He took a deep breath and launched into a story about his furry patients.

Malia listened as long as she could, eventually drifting away, his voice still full and warm in her ears.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

The echo of a bullet woke Scott. He raised his head from his pillow, eyes foggy and body languid with clinging sleep. On the pillow next to him was his phone, still connected to Malia's. He rested his cheek against the pillow, eyes closed once more, and listened to the melodic beat of her heart, beginning to drift back to sleep. Vaguely, he remembered when he was ten years old and Sheriff Stilinski took him, Malia, and Stiles to a shooting range. He said it was to teach them about gun safety, worried that having the three of them around the house meant the likelihood of them accidentally getting their hands on one of his guns was higher. The noise was enough to startle Scott. Guns were never his thing. He wanted to be a veterinarian— to save things, not to harm them. And he'd seen his mom, how tired and rattled she was after treating a gun victim. It was different for Malia and Stiles. Malia's dad hunted, so she'd grown up around guns. And Stiles, he wanted to be an FBI agent, meaning guns were a source of interest for him.

Whatever gun had woken Scott seemed distant now, a memory or maybe even a dream. A nightmare of what had happened in the woods, with Mr. Argent and the other hunters chasing him and Derek through the trees, eager to put them down. It sent a cold chill down his back and Scott pulled his blanket up higher, hugging it around his shoulders. He sighed and shook his head, willing the memory away. He focused on his phone once more, Malia's quiet snore a familiar and lulling sound. At least until a howl broke the night and he startled, sitting up in his bed and turning a worried look toward his window. It wasn't close, but it still called for action.

Scott shoved his blanket off and dropped his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed up a nearby pair of jeans and pulled them on while he hurried toward his bedroom door. Skipping socks, he yanked on his shoes and ran out the front door to the porch. His mom's car wasn't in the driveway, meaning she was still at work. He raced down the driveway toward the road, focused and anxious. He turned his head in either direction, listening for a sound, a sign, _anything_ that might tell him where the howl had come from and which way he should go.

Finally, after a few minutes, he heard it again. He took off, running down the road, arms pumping at his sides. The farther he went, the more sure he was of where he was going. It was the abandoned factory section, the streets mostly empty, walls covered in old graffiti. The street lamps were more spaced out here, an area where few people wandered on purpose. There were homeless people tucked into small spaces, trying to take cover from the elements. They fled into the shadows when another gun shot rented the air, expecting danger or police, either of which were good reason to hide.

Clutter and debris were left in piles all over, broken boards and shattered windows, it gave everything an eerie look. Scott walked through a maze of walls, corrugated sheet metal as far as the eye could see. He caught a scent, damp and coppery, and followed it. There were three distinct heartbeats, one steady while the other two were quicker, panicked. A shot echoed and he pressed himself against a wall, his own heart racing. And then, the hum of an engine and a fourth heartbeat, soon followed by a familiar voice—

"Get in," Mr. Argent demanded.

A woman answered. "Not even 'hello' or 'nice to see you?'"

Argent's voice was flat and unamused, "All I've got at the moment is 'please put the assault rifle away before someone notices.'" He took a quick look around to make sure no one was around to see.

The woman scoffed. "That's the brother I love…"

Scott peeked out from behind a wall, his brow furrowed. Argent and the woman stood facing each other in front of the headlights of a black SUV, the same one that had run Scott down the night of the game. The woman was a few inches shorter than Argent, long wavy hair falling down her back, a large and intimidating gun hooked over her shoulder by a strap.

"Chris, there were two of them."

Argent walked toward her, hand resting atop a gun on his hip. "The alpha?"

"I don't know, but one of them tried to kill me."

Scott cocked his head, his brow furrowed.

"One of them is gonna lead us to the other. He can't do that if he's _dead_."

"Well, I can't help kill either of them if one of them kills me first."

Argent sighed and looked away for a moment, scrubbing a hand over his chin. "How long will it take?"

The woman shrugged. "I'd give him 48 hours… if that."

Scott's eyes widened.

The woman walked past Argent then, making her way to the SUV. Argent followed a moment later, making his way to the driver's side door and yanking it open.

As the SUV pulled back, the headlights bounced around the dark alleyway. Scott pulled back, hiding around the corner once more. Chest tight and stomach bottoming out, he turned and made his way back in the direction he'd come, already regretting having left the warm comfort of his bed at all. The weight of what he knew dragged his shoulders down. If the woman, who appeared to be Argent's sister, had shot the alpha, did that mean this was over? Or worse, was it just starting? What did she mean by forty-eight hours? He had so many questions and no idea who to ask them to. Derek? The woman said there were two wolves. Did that mean Derek was there or someone else? The hard truth was that Scott knew so little about werewolves that he had no idea what he was dealing with. Could a single bullet kill a werewolf? Did it have to be silver or was that a myth?

When he finally got back to his place, he was exhausted, physically and mentally. A leaden weight formed in his stomach and his chest felt tight with worry. He shucked his jeans once more and climbed into bed, pulling the blanket up, hands gripped tight in the fabric. It was only when he felt it tear under his claws that he realized he'd partly shifted. Taking a deep breath, he let it out shakily.

"Star Wars, burnt cookie, eyelash, red shirt."

He whispered it to himself, over and over, hands twisting in his blanket. And then—

 _Thump-thump-thump_.

Scott opened his eyes and turned his head. Atop one of his pillows was his phone, Malia sleeping peacefully on the other end.

He reached for it, brow furrowed, and watched as his claws slowly reverted to his normal nails. Picking it up, he placed his phone on his chest and concentrated. Pushing every question and worry out of his mind, Scott closed his eyes and focused solely on her. No guns, no werewolves, no hunters or alphas. There was only her heart, echoing so loudly that he might as well have had his ear pressed to it. As he slipped into that hazy space right before sleep, he could imagine just that. Her palm, warm on the nape of his neck, fingers tangled in his hair. His head resting on her chest, ear hovering right atop her heart. His arm spread across her waist, fingers hooked around the flare of her hip, tangled in the fabric of her shirt. The scent of her, floral and familiar, a comfort that wraps itself around him. The heat of her body sinking into his, chasing any sign of a chill.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, he could hear their hearts fall into sync; strong and steady.

Tomorrow, he'd have to face reality, which included the fact that Allison's aunt had a gun meant specifically for people just like him, and she probably wouldn't hesitate to put him in the ground. But today, tonight, in this moment, there was just him and Malia.

 _Thump-thump-thump_ …

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _it's been a very long week. thank you to everyone who sent me congratulations on my graduation, i appreciate it. :)_ _i'm going to keep the author's note short this time around, because it's late and i need to be up for work entirely too soon. i haven't had a chance to respond to reviews yet, i spent much of the weekend catching up on some much needed rest. but i will be getting to them this week, as well as to any reviews i get for this chapter, so keep an eye out and thank you all so much for being so consistent with your reviewing, it's such a big encouragement! i hope you were all pleasantly surprised to see boyd this chapter, i had a ton of fun writing him!_

 **things to look forward to next chapter** _: a ton of friendship- malia/scott/stiles, malia/allison, malia/danny; malia/cole flirting; MELISSA; and injured derek!_

 _thanks so much for reading, please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	12. magic bullet 2

**word count** : 11,804  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : 1x04 - magic bullet

* * *

 **XII**

"Wait, so you're saying that you heard a gun go off and then you narrowed down where this thing was by its _howl?_ " Stiles walked backwards down the hallway, looking back and forth between Scott and Malia. "And it was Argent's _sister_ that shot it?"

"Yeah." Scott shrugged. "She called him her brother."

"Her name's Kate," Malia told them.

" _Kate_ had an assault rifle. I don't know who she hit, but it was someone." Scott hooked his thumbs in the straps of his backpack and frowned grimly. "She said there were two."

A tiny well of worry formed in Malia's stomach. "Does that mean the other one was Derek or…?"

Scott shrugged. "I don't know. But she said they only had 48 hours, so…"

"So, we're definitely hoping it's the alpha, right?" Stiles' brow furrowed. "I mean, I'm not Derek's biggest fan, but the alpha is the bigger threat, at least so far."

"Yeah, of course." Malia bit her lip. "But, what if she didn't hit the alpha? What if she hit Derek and he's the one with the time limit? Shouldn't we do something?"

"How?" Scott wondered. "I mean, we could try to find him at this house, but… Would we even know what to do?"

"No, but he might."

"If he did, couldn't he just save himself?" Stiles scoffed. "Anyway, what do we owe him for? He still hasn't told Scott how to control the shift. He basically just told him to head back to the bus and hope he remembers something. And now he wants help finding this alpha. But, guys…" He took a quick look around before saying, a little quieter, "Shouldn't we be happy that the Argents are on this? I mean, maybe they take the alpha out and that's it. They stop looking for any more wolves."

"Except they know for sure that there's two." Malia shook her head. "Derek said they've been hunting werewolves since the beginning. They won't be satisfied until they wipe out every werewolf in Beacon Hills. If they know there's two, then two is what it'll take to get them to stop. And even then, we don't know that they won't keep looking until they find Scott, too."

"Okay, best case scenario… or _worst_ , depending on who you are. They take out both the alpha _and_ Derek and then they pack up and leave town. I mean, no offense buddy…" He reached out and patted Scott's chest. "I know you like Allison, but is she really worth your life?"

Malia scowled. "We're not going to let them _kill_ Derek."

"Why not?" Stiles shrugged. "Two birds, two very efficient hunters."

Shaking her head, Malia said, "If Derek didn't turn Scott, then he's just been a sketchy guy that should've told us more about what was going on. That's not worth a _death_ sentence."

"She's right." Scott sighed. "What do we do?"

The bell rang then, signalling the beginning of school.

"We go to class." Stiles' brows hiked. "We can drop by Derek's after or wait for him to appear creepily from the shadows, whichever comes first."

With a sigh, Malia nodded. "Deal."

As Stiles marched off to his locker, Scott lingered. He scuffed the floor with his shoe before eventually turning to face Malia. "So... are you mad?"

"That Stiles wants to kill Derek?" She rolled her eyes. "He doesn't mean it; he's just annoyed. He might not like him, but he'd still save his life if he had to."

"No, not that. I mean… I know I said that I'd talk to you before I ran headfirst into danger, but I wasn't even thinking. I was gonna go right back to sleep after I heard the gunshot. I wasn't even sure it was real. I thought maybe it was a nightmare or something. But, when I heard the howl, I had to go… I had to _know_."

"I get it. I don't know if I'm mad." Was she happy that he'd run off to face who knows what, only to stumble upon a hunter aiming specifically for werewolves? _No_ , of course not. But she understood part of the motivation. "I probably wouldn't've been much help, since I was dead asleep when you heard it. But… I don't know. I don't like knowing you're running around without any back-up. I know me and Stiles are human, so we don't exactly have the ability to take on a werewolf or even a hunter, but... I just prefer knowing you have someone with you."

He nodded. "Next time, whatever it is, we go together."

A slow smile upturned her lips. "Let's hope it's not so late. I'm crabby when I don't get a full eight hours."

Scott laughed. "I know."

Scoffing, she knocked her arm against his and continued down the hall.

Grinning, Scott bumped her arm back.

Malia smothered a smile.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia had just pulled a snack from her bag and was closing her locker, when she startled at finding Cole standing on the other side. Rolling her eyes at herself— she never used to be this jumpy— she shook her head. "Hey."

"Hey." He smiled, resting a shoulder against a neighboring locker. A lock of hair fell into his eyes, which was strangely attractive, and Malia wondered if he kept it a little long for that exact reason. "I was gonna text you, but I saw you across the hall, so I figured face to face was probably better."

"You've been texting me all morning. I don't think I got anything done in math class." She shrugged. "Which I'm not even kind of disappointed about. In fact, thank you for distracting me. Sometimes I think my soul is being sucked out through my ears when I have to sit through a math lecture."

"Can't imagine Danny likes that. Doesn't he tutor you?"

"Yeah, but Danny's different."

Cole raised an eyebrow. "He makes math interesting?"

"No, he makes it understandable. I'm pretty sure Matthews is talking in tongues and I'm the only one that's noticed." She tipped her head. "So, what'd you want to talk to me about?"

"Definitely not math." His grin widened. "I was wondering what you were doing tonight."

"Tonight? Uh… I actually have plans with Scott and Stiles. They're feeling neglected, so we're going to hang out. And tomorrow I'm having dinner at Allison's. Her aunt just came into town, so she wants me to meet her." And Malia definitely wasn't skipping that meal, since apparently Kate Argent was just as much a hunter as her brother was. Which begged the question, how long until Allison was one, too? Was it a requirement that every member of a hunting family become a hunter? Or could Allison opt out if it just wasn't her thing? Did that mean she was going into the arms dealing business, too? Shaking herself out of that train of thought, she refocused on Cole. "What about Saturday night? I can pick up a movie and we can hang out."

"Yeah, sounds good." He smiled. "My place or yours?"

"Yours if it's free. I can't guarantee when my dad will be home." More, she couldn't guarantee her dad wouldn't show up unexpectedly, drunk and disapproving. It was hard to guess when Henry would be home or what kind of mood he would be in, which meant home could sometimes feel like a mine field. The last thing she wanted was for Cole to be around that.

"Okay. My place it is. I'll text you the address."

Malia nodded. "Great. I hope you like horror movies, because that's probably what I'm bringing over."

He leaned over, his voice dropping an octave. "Only if you promise to hold me when I get scared."

She laughed. "Sure."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Ask me how my date went."

Malia looked up from the book open in her lap, one eye squinted against the sun, and found Danny standing in front of her. "Hey," she greeted, tucking the corner of her page down to mark it before she closed her book and put it aside. "How was your date?"

He took a seat in the grass across from her, crossing his legs and leaning back on his hands. With a wide grin, he said, "Amazing."

"Yeah?" Malia brightened, excited for him. "So, Adam's a keeper?"

"So far, yeah. He's funny and smart and..." He let out a wistful sigh. "A _great_ kisser."

Malia wiggled her eyebrows. "On the first date? _Scandalous_."

He snorted a laugh. "We just clicked. I don't know how long it'll last, but I _really_ like him."

"Cool. So, when's the second date?"

"We're going hiking this weekend. He says he knows a good route through the preserve." Danny's eyes lit up. "He even makes his own granola."

"A hike and granola. Yeah, he sounds like the guy for you. I bet he never misses a post-party run, too."

Danny grinned, showing off twin dimples in his cheeks. "I'll invite him to my next party and find out. If you come, you can meet him."

"Are you using your soon-to-be boyfriend as leverage to get me to go to another party?"

"Absolutely," he said without shame or hesitation.

Rolling her eyes, Malia shrugged. "All right. Well, depending on when it is and what's going on, I'll _probably_ be there."

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"Seriously. Unless there's some kind of crisis, I'll go."

"Does Scott McCall count as a 'crisis?'"

Malia looked away. "Depends on the day."

Danny searched her face and then leaned forward. He grabbed up a banana from her lunch and peeled it back. "How are things going with Cole?"

"Fine. Good. We're getting together this Saturday. Movie at his place."

He nodded. "And Scott?"

"Still happily dating Allison."

Danny bit off the end of the banana and chewed thoughtfully. "Did you do what I said?"

"What, tried to look at things like I wasn't involved?"

"Unbiased."

Shrugging, Malia picked the crusts off her sandwich. "I've been a little busy."

"Maybe." He stared at her a beat. "Or you're scared."

Her brow furrowed and she looked up at him, frowning. "Of what?"

"The truth."

Malia felt a wave of irritation flow threw her at the nonchalant way Danny was talking about her and Scott. As if he had all the answers and she was just being willfully ignorant. "Which is?"

"You remember when you told me that all the anticipation around Adam was freaking me out? That there was so much build up to it that I was worried he'd fall short or something...? Maybe you find out Scott feels the same way and you run into the same problem. Maybe, in your head, you guys make sense, but you're worried that if you ever gave it a real try, it wouldn't work out, which puts the friendship at risk."

"I haven't built up some fantasy of Scott in my head. I know exactly who he is." She shook her head. "The problem isn't that he can't live up to expectation, it's that _I_ can't." She frowned at the ground, glaring at nothing in particular. "Forgetting for a second that I don't think he feels that way about me... I'm not the kind of person that works with someone like Scott."

" _Why?_ "

"Because I... I'm too rough. I'm like sandpaper and he's, I don't know, velvet or something. Those things don't mix." She sighed. "I push people away. I don't pull them closer. He doesn't deserve that. He deserves someone like Allison. She's nice and friendly and—"

"Hey," he interrupted. Suddenly, Danny wasn't siting across from her, but right next to her, shoulder pressed warm against her own.

Malia looked up, angry that she could feel her chin wobbling. "I look at my dad and he can be right there in front of me, physically, but I know that he's somewhere else. It's like he's stuck in his head, in the past, and I can't bring him back. I can't make him stay here, in the present. I can't make him _see_ me. And I know he's hurting. I know he misses them. But I miss them, too. I miss them every day. But I get up and I live my life and I try to be the kind of person they'd want me to be, but I think I'm failing."

"Malia..."

"My mom was so _good_. She was so full of love and I wish I could be more like her. She was so _free_ and happy and she never apologized for it. And I wonder sometimes, who I'd be if I didn't lose her. Maybe I'd be more open or nicer or _something_ , I don't know." She shook her head. "But I'm not. I'm scared and angry and I keep people at a distance because I hate the idea that I might lose them, too. So no, I'm not scared that Scott won't be exactly who I think he is. I'm scared that even if he could love me, he wouldn't want to. And that is _so_... pathetic." Tears clouded her eyes. "And now I'm crying on you and you just wanted to tell me about Adam, who sounds _awesome_ , and I really am happy for you, I swear. I just—" Malia's words, whatever they might have been, were muffled by Danny's shoulder as he pulled her into a hug.

His hand cupped the back of her head and his arm banded around her, warm and snug. "It's okay."

Malia's face crumbled and she leaned into him, closing her eyes against the sting of tears and hooking an arm around his waist.

They sat like that for a while, until Malia felt a little steadier, and entirely embarrassed by her outburst. Leaning back, she sniffled, swiping at her eyes and shaking her head. "I'm not usually this emotional."

"Guess I hit a nerve." He left his arm around her shoulders and leaned back against the tree. "Look, I'm going to say something and you're probably not going to agree with it, but I want you to hear it."

Rubbing at her still runny nose, she nodded, not yet ready to look up at him. "Okay."

"I think you've got this idea in your head that you're this cold, mean person and... you're wrong. You're a little standoffish, sure. And it takes some effort to earn your friendship. But, when you do let people in, you champion them. You're tough, but there are different ways to be that. You stand up for people you care about and I have a feeling you'd go to bat for just about anybody if you thought they needed it." He rubbed her shoulder. "It's okay to be scared. We all are."

She looked up at him then, unsure and a little surprised.

"Yeah, even me." He half-smiled. "Look, I don't know how Scott feels. I can't speak for him. But, I know you. And someone is going to going to love you, prickly personality and all. That's one thing you really don't have to worry about."

Slowly, a smile pulled up one corner of her mouth. "This might be the only time in my life that I appreciate ' _math_ ' for something."

He laughed, his head falling back. "You wanna calculate the odds of us becoming friends without it?"

She wrinkled her nose. "No. Not even kind of."

Still chuckling, he squeezed her and dropped his head down to rest against hers. "Done crying?"

"Mostly, yeah." She sniffled. "Can we never talk about this little freak out, like, ever?"

"Or..." He leaned back to see her better. "You forgive yourself for breaking down sometimes."

Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. "I don't like how I feel after. All gross and empty and _damp_."

He grinned. "Crying does that."

"I know. I hate it." Reaching up, she rubbed her hands over her cheeks and groaned. "What were we talking about before this?"

"Uh... homemade granola?"

She snorted. "Have you ever tried it?"

"No, but I bet it's great."

"I'm expecting you to text me some cheesy picture of you two standing on the cliff, sun setting behind you."

Danny nodded. "I can make that happen."

Feeling a little better about things, Malia slumped back against the tree and picked up her sandwich. "This emotional junk is exhausting."

"If you wanna take a nap, I'll wake you up before the bell rings."

She looked up at him, her brows hiked. "All seriousness, forget Scott, I love _you_ now."

Amused, he rolled his eyes and gave her a little shove. "Whatever. You're too late. I have Adam."

"I'll fight him for you. I've never met him, but I think I can probably take him."

Shaking his head, he laughed. "I'll let him know."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After school, Malia sat atop the benches overlooking the lacrosse field with Allison. The boys were currently distracted with practice, leaving them to talk alone.

Allison sat backwards on the bench one below Malia's so they could face each other. "So, is Saturday a date or…?" Her brow furrowed. "I mean, you and Cole agreed you weren't really _together_ together, right?"

Malia nodded, chewing on a bite of her apple. "Yeah. We're people with benefits."

Allison's mouth twitched. "Okay… Then, hanging out is code for…?"

"Making out with a movie playing in the background." She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess we'll talk about it when I'm there. Danny said we should probably talk boundaries anyway. Find out what we're expecting or what we want, that kind of thing."

Nodding, Allison pulled her hair up and tied it in a knot. "Which would be?"

"Fun. I like making out with him, but I don't know if I want it to be anything more than that. Not right now, anyway. We'll see how long it lasts."

"And you think that's okay? Like, he'll be open to that?"

"We didn't make any promises to each other. And I can always say 'no.' If he wants more than that, then I guess we cut it short." She shrugged. "It's not that big a deal."

"Yeah, of course." Allison's brow furrowed. "It's just…"

Malia stared at her curiously. "What's up?"

"Nothing. It's just something Lydia said to me, it's stuck in my head."

"What'd she say?"

"It's dumb." She smiled awkwardly. "And I _feel_ dumb for getting stuck on it."

Malia kicked a foot out and knocked it against Allison's ankle. "Spit it out."

"All right. So, I mentioned that me and Scott are getting together tomorrow. He's supposed to come over after school and we were going to study before dinner. By the way, I already told my dad that you were coming over. Anyway, when I mentioned it to Lydia, she said it's never _just_ studying. That it was like getting into a hot tub, eventually someone cops a feel." She rolled her eyes. "And I'm not… _against_ that, exactly. I mean, we've kissed and it was great. Making out is the next logical step, right? But… I don't know, it's the way Lydia said it, like she expected it to be more than that and… We've only really had one date. One and a _half_ if you include the party, which I don't, not really. So, I guess I'm just freaking out a little bit. Like, are we supposed to be doing that or is he expecting that or…?" She flushed pink. "And now I've just word-vomited all of my insecurity on his best friend. I'm sorry! You probably don't want to hear about this kind of stuff."

"It's fine." Malia waved a hand dismissively. "Look, ignore Lydia. You can't compare yourself or your experiences or what she does to what you're ready to do. I mean, she picked _Jackson_ for a partner..."

Allison snorted.

"Only do what you're ready to do. And talk to Scott about what that is. Trust me, he's going to be happy with anything. He really likes you and you're pretty much his first girlfriend, so I don't think he has _any_ expectations. At this point, he's just guessing."

A slow grin formed on Allison's mouth. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

Letting out a relieved breath, Allison's shoulders relaxed. "I'm so glad we're friends. I really like Lydia, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I feel like she's in college and I'm in kindergarten."

"She has that effect." Malia shifted back on the bench and brought her legs up, crossing them beneath her. "When we were little, Lydia was the smartest girl in class. Don't get me wrong, she still is, but back then, she owned it. She corrected teachers, other students, pretty much every person she ever met. At heart, Lydia is that nerd you see in movies that wears pocket protectors and plaid and has a retainer, except her inner-nerd never had a chance to show, because it and the fashionista inside her duked it out and fashion won. Anyway, at some point, somebody must've told her boys don't find brains cute, because she started pretending she wasn't. She still makes the grades, she just doesn't flaunt it like she used to. And somehow, most of our class forgot that Lydia's a walking brain."

"That's…" Allison's brow wrinkled, " _sad_."

Malia nodded. Yeah, it was. But like with all things, Lydia made it work for her. And Malia imagined that, eventually, she would tire of hiding her true self and let her nerd flag fly. She looked forward to seeing it happen.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

By the time lacrosse practice ended, Allison had already taken off for an impromptu shopping session with Kate. Malia straddled a cement block as she waited for the boys to emerge from the school, hopefully smelling better than what they had when they'd finished practice. Stiles was the first one out, walking at a fast clip, his bag hooked over one shoulder and his lacrosse stick in hand. "You seriously want to go to Derek's?"

"You said we would." Scott shrugged. "Shouldn't we? I mean, if Derek is the one they shot..."

"You'll what? Perform werewolf CPR on him?" Stiles shook his head. "We're not equipped to handle bullet wounds."

Hopping off the block, Malia walked over to them. "We weren't equipped for werewolves either, but we're doing pretty okay, all things considered."

Scott grimaced. "I almost mauled you in a forest."

"' _Almost_ ' being the key word there." Malia shrugged and popped a Hot Tamale in her mouth. "Anyway, we said we'd check in on Derek and we're going to. If he's not shot, then we can ask him how he expects us to find this alpha. And if he is then... I don't know. I'll YouTube a tutorial on bullet removal."

Stiles stared at her through squinted eyes. "Sometimes you truly frighten me."

Scott's brow was furrowed. "You think they really have a tutorial for that?"

"Probably." She held the candy box out to him and shook it.

Scott held a cupped hand out for her to pour a few into his palm. "Let's say it isn't Derek _or_ the alpha... What do we do if there's somebody else running around out there with a bullet wound?"

"Someone else like _who?_ " Stiles wondered, holding his own hand out for candy and glaring at Malia when she only dropped a single tamale in his hand.

Chuckling to herself, she poured a few more. "Maybe there's a Scott 2.0 out there."

Both boys turned to stare at her blankly.

Malia rolled her eyes. "Another random high schooler this alpha took on as his beta, biting them specifically for the power. Maybe Kate was aiming for the alpha and caught the beta instead."

"What, like the beta kamikaze'd in front of the bullet?" Stiles snorted. "Seriously?"

"Maybe. Derek said there was a weird sort of loyalty that comes with being pack." Malia shrugged. "Or maybe he was just easier to shoot. I don't know."

"Maybe." Scott frowned. "Either way, we need to find out who it is. Starting with Derek."

* * *

 **...**

* * *

No matter how many times Malia visited the Hale House, she couldn't help the shock of discomfort that ran parallel to her spine. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end, her stomach curdled, and her chest tightened, like a slowly squeezing vice against her lungs. She wondered if it was the idea of what happened, the knowledge that a family had burned alive inside, that claimed the house with all its ghosts. Or maybe it was her own pain, a reminder of what she had lost, that made the house seem especially eerie.

"So, do you wanna knock or...?" Stiles leaned back against the front of the jeep, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie. "If we had a phone number, we could just text him. A quick 'hey, you been shot lately?' would do it."

Malia rolled her eyes. "I'll be sure to mention that." She started across the lawn, patchy with dirt and grass, and climbed the stairs to the porch. She imagined, in its glory, the house would have been something worth looking at. Nowadays, it was hard to see.

Scott was just behind her, she could feel his nervous energy on her back.

"We're just going to check in on him. If we're lucky, he's fine and it was the alpha that was hit."

"And if we're not lucky?"

She sighed. "Then I guess we figure out how to treat a bullet wound."

"I'll Google it now, save us some time." Stiles dug his phone out. When he looked up to find them staring at him, he said, "Trust me, this isn't even close to the weirdest thing I've Googled."

Malia pulled a face. "I'm not going to ask."

"What? No, not _that_." Stiles rolled his eyes. "Get your head out of the gutter, geez."

"Uh-huh." Malia turned back to the door and raised a fist to knock. As she did, the door opened. Not from anyone opening it, but because it wasn't quite closed.

"That's not creepy…" Stiles muttered.

Taking a deep breath, Malia stepped inside. She looked left and right to find the inside was still just as burnt out and dilapidated as it had been when she'd interrupted the fight between Derek and Scott. Which reminded her— Malia looked back at Scott. "Do you hear anything?"

He followed her in and tipped his head, seeming to stretch his hearing. Finally, he said, "No. Just your heartbeats."

"Is mine beating as fast as it feels?" Stiles frowned. "Because I think wandering around this burned out carcass is a _terrible_ idea."

Scott nodded. "But we should look, right? Just because she said it could take 48 hours doesn't mean it did..."

Malia pursed her lips. Somewhere in the house could be a dead body. Derek Hale's dead body to be precise. Malia would be the first to admit the guy had a sketchy history with them and could be incredibly frustrating. But... All things considered, she wouldn't wish death on him. If she really thought about it, it made sense for him to be as distant as he was. After all, he'd lost his family, too. She knew firsthand what that could do to a person. "I'll check upstairs, you guys look around down here."

Just as Malia reached the foot of the stairs, a hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her back a step. When she turned around, Scott was staring at her worriedly. "Be careful."

"I know. This house is a giant hazard."

"Not just that... Derek's not my favorite person, but I know you two get along okay. If he is in here and he was the one that was shot..." He searched her face. "You shouldn't have to see that if he's..."

"Dead?" Her brows arched. "Let's just hope he isn't. Because favorite or not, we need him. For information if nothing else."

"He hasn't exactly been great at sharing it so far," Stiles pointed out.

Malia rolled her eyes. "Will you just look around, please?" She turned back to the stairs then and felt Scott's hand slowly slip away. Swallowing tightly, she started the climb. The stairs were surprisingly sturdy; enough that she wondered if Derek had done anything to make them that way. After all, he was basically living out here, wasn't he? Which was sad and morbid in its own right. She had trouble driving past where her mom and sister had died. Her heartbeat always ratcheted up, her palms sweated, and her stomach twisted itself into knots. Stiles made a point of avoiding it whenever possible. Actively spending any time there was not something she ever planned to do. But Derek chose to immerse himself in the pain and loss of his family, living right alongside their ghosts.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she surveyed both directions, eventually making her way down the right side, where a number of doors could be seen. Did Derek stay in his old bedroom? she wondered. Or did he sleep below on the dusty, time-worn couches? Maybe he stayed in his mother's room. With his extra sensitive senses, he might even catch the lingering scent of her still clinging to clothes and linens. Back home, Malia had a perfume bottle of her mother's. She never used it, but sometimes she'd take the cap off and just breathe in that old scent and be swept away by it. Two dabs to her neck and one to her wrist, that was what her mother did. When Malia would linger at the vanity, watching her get ready, Evelyn would reach out and put a little dab on Malia's wrist and have her rub them together. She always felt so pretty and mature when her mom did that.

Malia felt a sting in her eyes that she blinked away quickly. She thought of her mother often, but there were some things, some memories, that hurt more than others. Knowing her mother had never seen her grow up, that she wouldn't see who she would become, was something that Malia carried on her shoulders. There were days when it hit her particularly hard and she would try to imagine what life might be like if her mom and Kylie had lived. What would Kylie look like now? How much would her personality have changed and grown? Would Malia and her mom still dance around the kitchen, singing into spatulas as they made breakfast? Would she have joined her mother at her vanity one day and ask her to teach her how to do her make up? Would her mom have taken her out to find a special perfume all her own? The loss of the unknown would always haunt her.

Shaking it off, or trying to at least, Malia checked the doors at the end of the hall. Aside from a single bathroom, the rest were bedrooms. One was missing a wall, lost to the fire of long ago. Each of them were missing furniture, collecting dust and cobwebs, the walls blackened and peeling, the windows broken. They echoed with a lack of people, love, and attention. They were shells.

Making her way to the other end of the hall, she found a staircase that led higher into the house. An attic room with a steepled window. The roof was slanted and a lack of light made the room much darker than the others. There was furniture— an iron bedframe with a thin mattress and a patchy blanket. A few pieces of luggage, one of which was open, revealing dark shirts and jeans. This was where Derek stayed, she realized.

She walked deeper into the room. Dust still littered the air. A white sheet was strung over a tall dresser. A battery-operated lamp sat atop a bedside table, a small sheet puddled on the floor next to it. Either Derek was a fan of minimalism or his worldly possessions amounted to a chipped ornament and a single photograph. The ornament sat on the very corner of the picture, an attempt to keep it in place, she imagined, since it was absent a frame. The ornament was old, the paint long faded, but it vaguely resembled a lumpy looking dog. Maybe it was one of his siblings. The only token he could find in an otherwise fire-eaten house. When she attempted to put it down, something spilled out of the top and across her fingers. It was brown and grainy, like pepper.

Dusting her fingers off on her jeans, she picked up the picture next. It wasn't in good shape; the edges were frayed and thin lines showed where it had been folded time and again. A keepsake he clearly kept close to him and looked at often. It was a family picture, taken from the front yard. The Hales were on the porch; seated on the steps and standing at the back from shortest to tallest. And there was Derek in the middle, he couldn't be more than seventeen. He had an arm around two girls, both bearing a striking enough resemblance to each other that Malia assumed they were twins. A step lower were another two girls and a boy. The girls were leaning into each other, shoulder to shoulder, showing off bright smiles, while the boy was half-grinning, arms resting atop his knees. At the back were who she assumed were Derek's parents. A young man and woman stood on either side of them— college-age, she'd guess. And finally, a lone man stood next to the stairs, leaned back against a pillar, a smirk upturning his mouth and his arms crossed loose over his chest.

Malia stared at it a long moment before eventually trying her luck and flipping the picture over. There was writing on the back, listing each person in descending order—

 _Laura, Mom, Dad, Ben_  
 _Adrianne, Derek, Gabriela_  
 _Lucas, Val, Cora_

Just to right of them, center mass, was— _Peter_

According to an old newspaper article she was able to dig up online, 8 people died that night. The only survivors were Laura, Derek, and Peter. And it would seem now that the only two remaining were Derek and Peter. That was, at least, if Derek was still alive.

"Hey."

Malia startled and turned around abruptly, her heart pounding. She let out a relieved sigh when she found Scott staring back at her.

"What's that?"

She looked down at the picture. "Uh, nothing." She waved her free hand. "I think this is where he's been staying. It's not as dusty and it looks lived in. Plus, there's a suitcase with more dark clothes than any one person needs."

Nodding, Scott stepped further into the room, casting a curious eye around. "We didn't find anything. Stiles wanted to try the basement but the stairs were destroyed in the fire. Only way in is through a hole in the floor." He shook his head. "I can't smell anything bad... I think I'd smell it if there was a decomposing body somewhere around here."

Malia frowned. "So, maybe it wasn't him then. Maybe he's okay."

Tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he shrugged. "Maybe."

She wasn't sure why, but she was hesitant to put the picture down. There was something about looking back in history, to a time when things were normal and a family was at peace, that was especially unnerving knowing what became of them. "Did you know Derek had five sisters?"

Scott shook his head.

"Laura, Adrianne, Gabriela, Val and Cora." She stared at the photo. "When I lost my mom and Kylie, I blamed myself. I was a kid and I thought... maybe because I told them to die, the universe made it happen. I never told my dad because I thought he'd hate me. Then I'd lose him, too." A lump formed in her throat. "I know Derek's been obnoxiously tight-lipped about what's going on, but... He came back here for his sister. Laura was just about the only family he had left and now she's gone, too." She chewed the inside of her cheek. "I like Allison. I think she's an awesome person and a great friend. But her dad and her aunt are killers. They hunt people like you and Derek down. I want this alpha stopped, I really do, but we can't lose sight of the fact that the alpha isn't our only enemy."

"You're right. It isn't." Scott stared at her. "Look, I feel bad for Derek. And as much as I hate that he won't just tell me what I need to know about all this werewolf stuff, I don't want him to die. If he was shot, we'll do what we can to help him. And if he wasn't and the alpha issue is solved then... I don't know. I don't know how we deal with hunters. I'm making a lot of this stuff up as I go along because I really don't know what or who to expect anymore."

Malia nodded. "I know. And I'm not telling you that you can't be with Allison or even that you shouldn't. I just really want you to be careful. Because every second you spend near her dad or her aunt is just one more second they use to decide if you're a threat or not. And I don't think they're going to take a survey to find out what kind of person you really are."

Crossing the space between them, Scott reached for her. His fingers were warm against her wrist. As gentle as his touch was, she felt rooted by him, planted firmly on the ground, despite the fact that the Hale house probably deserved to be condemned. "Whatever happens, I just want us to be okay."

"We are." Malia met his eyes. "You know, maybe Stiles was right. Derek will appear when he wants to. If he is hurt and he needs our help, he'll find us. Until then, maybe all we can do is wait. All we really know is that Kate shot someone last night, but we have no idea who and we aren't going to know until either Derek tells us or Stiles' dad finds a body."

"So, let's hope for the best. We'll deal with the hunter thing as we go along." He shrugged. "Maybe the Argents are different. Maybe they _do_ follow the code Derek mentioned."

Malia frowned. She wasn't so sure about that. Chris Argent might seem friendly and affable on the outside, but there was something about him that raised her alarms.

"There you two are!" Stiles marched into the room. "Are we going to spend all afternoon in this place? He's not here. Chances are, he's lurking in the shadows at some other poor sap's place. Probably terrorizing children and stalking innocent victims."

Shaking her head, Malia sent him a look before putting the family picture back on the bedside table. "Come on. We said we were going to hang out tonight, right? Pizza and a movie?"

Scott lit up. "Yeah, yes." He nodded. "My place? My mom's not going to be home for a bit."

"Works for me," Stiles agreed.

Together, the three of them made their way to the door with Malia taking up the rear. She paused, casting a look back into the dark room. There was an emptiness to it all that was hard to miss. In this giant house, there was one room and one person that occupied it, and even it seemed clouded with the shadows of the past. For the first time, she reconsidered the idea that Derek was angry, and wondered if maybe he was just incredibly lonely.

"Lia?"

She turned to find Scott and Stiles waiting for her.

"You okay?" Stiles wondered, his brow furrowed.

"Yeah." She nodded. "Just being weirdly introspective today. It's fine." She met them in the hall, pulling the door closed behind her. As they walked ahead, bickering about what movie to watch, she followed, smiling to herself. The one thing Malia could definitely say was that she didn't feel lonely. Scott and Stiles never let her.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

That evening, Malia found herself seated atop a counter in the McCall kitchen, willing the pizza in the oven to bake faster.

"I'm pretty sure watching the time actually slows it down." Scott leaned against the kitchen island across from her, arms crossed loosely. "Stiles is still trying to pick a movie. He thinks we have enough time for a Star Wars marathon. When I reminded him that we have school tomorrow, he said it'd be worth it."

Malia rolled her eyes. "I'm not watching Star Wars."

" _I heard that!_ " Stiles shouted from the living room.

"Then I don't have to repeat myself."

"What did I ever do to deserve such ungrateful friends? I try to bring you into the amazing cinematic world of George Lucas and you have no appreciation!"

" _Anyway_..." Malia turned back to Scott. "Excited about your study session tomorrow?"

Scott half-smiled, half-grimaced. "I kind of overheard you and Allison talking about it earlier... I didn't mean to, but sometimes I just can't shut it off." He motioned to his ears. "Do you think she feels pressured? Should I say something?"

She shrugged. "I mean, talking never hurt anybody."

He nodded.

A beat passed before he eventually wondered, "What you said, about how Danny told you to talk to Cole about boundaries and expectations and stuff, do you think you will?"

"Yeah, probably. I know Stiles is worried because Cole's a little older and I guess he thinks he'll pressure me into something I'm not ready for, but..."

"Are you?" Scott stared at her. "I mean, do you think you're ready for..."

"Sex?" She raised an eyebrow, her mouth turning up slowly. "Are you?"

He swallowed tightly, his throat bobbing. "I don't know. I mean... Maybe... Kind of?"

She tipped her head. "If it's not a firm yes, I wouldn't go for it. There's no time limit to when you have to have sex."

He grimaced. "You don't spend as much time in the boys' locker room as I do."

"Whatever. Half those guys are probably lying." She rolled her eyes. "Look, when it's right, it's right. Considering Allison sounds unsure too, I don't think you have to start shopping for condoms just yet."

His cheeks flared a telling red. "I know. I just... I don't know. It feels weird to talk about it. Like I'm just supposed to _know_ or something."

"Talk to her. Ask her questions. Ask her what she's ready to do and what she isn't." Malia shrugged. "There's lots of stuff you can do that isn't sex that's still fun."

"Yeah." He paused. "Have... I mean, have you done those things with Cole?"

"We've kissed. A lot. And hands wander sometimes. But we've only really hung out twice and the second time was in his car, which doesn't leave a whole lot of space for things..."

He nodded jerkily. "Yeah, sure."

"I mean, I guess we'll talk about it on Saturday."

He hummed, his brow furrowed. "Do you think you will? I mean, do you think he's the person that you want to... for the first time?"

Malia drummed her hands against her knees. "I don't think there's anything wrong with having sex with people you're not in love with. As long as everybody wants to and they're ready, I say go for it. But... I don't know. Danny has this metaphor about training wheels. Like, you can be with someone and you can explore things with them, but it's all just sort of practice. And when you're ready, you take the training wheels off. Maybe with Cole it's just exploration and figuring out what I like and don't like. Maybe I have sex with him or maybe I don't. Maybe I meet someone else and fall in love and sex is just the next natural step. I don't think I can really say for sure either way until it's happening."

Scott nodded, staring at the floor for a long moment. "You really like him though, right? I mean... You're happy?"

"I like hanging out with him. He's nice and smart and we have fun together." She searched his face. "What about you and Allison?"

He looked up. "Huh?"

"You're happy with Allison?"

"Yeah, I mean..." He licked his lips and sighed. "It's complicated. With all the hunter stuff and the werewolf stuff and... But she's really nice and I like talking to her."

"Good." Malia dug her fingers into her knees. "She really likes you, too."

Before Scott could say anything, the alarm on the oven blared, letting them know the pizza should be done.

Pushing off the island counter, Scott walked to the oven, using a mitt to pull out the pan.

Stiles skidded into the kitchen then. "Okay, I've narrowed it down to three. All classics— _Alien_ , can't go wrong, _Scream_ , 90's horror at its best, or, and I think Scott will like this... _An American Werewolf in London_."

"Ba-dum-tss," Malia said flatly.

Grinning, Stiles took a bow. "Thank you."

"Wait, we have that movie?" Scott asked, pulling out plates.

"Oddly, yes. I guess your mom bought it." He clapped his hands together. "Ideas?"

"Why'd you pick all horror?" Malia wondered. She wasn't complaining exactly, it was one of her favorite genres, but usually Stiles stuck to fantasy or sci-fi.

"Alien is not a horror movie."

"It's totally a sci-fi horror. It literally bursts out of that one guy's chest. That's a total horror move."

Stiles pointed at her, brows raised. "Or is it a sci-fi thriller move?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "Scott, tell Stiles he's wrong."

Scott didn't even look up from where he was cutting the pizza into slices. "Stiles, you're wrong."

"What? That's not even fair. He probably hasn't seen it."

Malia shrugged, grinning. "Two to one, I win."

"You _always_ win because Scott _always_ agrees with you."

"Not always," she argued. "Just most of the time."

"Oh, right, because that's so much better." Stiles rolled his eyes. "Which one are we watching?"

Scott pulled a face. "Not _Werewolf in London_."

"Okay, down to two." Stiles rubbed his hands together. "Malia?"

" _Scream_ is too close to home with its serial killer plot. At least with Alien everything's happening in space."

"So... Alien, then?" Stiles looked from her to Scott, who nodded. "Cool." He turned on his heel and made his way back to the living room to set the movie up.

Malia watched him go before turning to Scott, who was eating a stray piece of pepperoni, strings of cheese hanging off his chin.

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Hey."

When he turned to look at her, she reached out and pulled the cheese off him, dangling it for him to see.

Scott ate it right out of her fingers and huffed a laugh.

"Dork," she muttered, giving his shoulder a shove.

Smiling, he dished out a few slices of pizza onto a plate and handed it to her. "Here. I'll grab mine and Stiles."

Hopping off the counter, she accepted the plate and moved to the fridge. "What do you want to drink?"

"What've we got?"

"Root-beer, Coke, and... some weird, fizzy grapefruit looking stuff."

"Coke's fine."

Grabbing out two cans of Coke for the boys and a Root-beer for herself, Malia carried it all into the living room.

Stiles was on his favorite arm chair, fiddling around with the remote to skip past previews and get straight to the movie. She put his Coke on the corner of the table closest to him and took a seat on the couch.

Scott appeared shortly after, handing Stiles his pizza before taking a seat next to Malia, accepting the Coke she handed him. "Stiles, didn't you used to have a crush on someone in this?"

Stiles sat up and shot him a look. "Ripley is a badass! It's weird if you _don't_ have a crush on her."

Scott held a hand up in surrender and sunk back against the couch, pizza cradled in his lap. "All right, fine."

Malia hid a grin as she took a bite of pizza. This was nice, she thought. It felt good to just have a night with the three of them. She was still worried about Derek, but she had a feeling he'd find them if he needed their help. So, she resolved to enjoy herself with her two favorite people and some cheap but still good pizza. "Needs more sauce," she muttered.

Scott smiled. "You say that about every pizza you've ever eaten."

"And I will continue to until my sauce needs are filled."

He snorted.

"It's starting," Stiles said, sitting forward eagerly.

Malia muffled her amusement and turned her attention to the TV ahead.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After _Alien_ finished, they ended up watching _Scream_ , too. Halfway through the movie however, both Scott and Stiles had passed out. Leaving Malia the sole person awake, eating a bowl of popcorn, her feet in Scott's lap while she sprawled out on the couch. Hearing a key in the lock, she sat up, and smiled knowingly as Melissa walked inside, still dressed in her scrubs.

Melissa took one fond look at the boys and then grinned at Malia. "Tough night?"

"Eating pizza really takes it out of them." She held the popcorn bowl out. "Hungry?"

Melissa scooped out a handful. " _Starving_. Is there any pizza left?"

"Nope. But Scott picked up a few groceries, including everything you need for a sandwich. I can make you one."

"That would be _amazing_." Shrugging her coat off, Melissa sighed. "I'm going to take a quick shower."

"Sure." Climbing off the couch, Malia made her way to the kitchen while Melissa climbed the stairs to the second floor.

It didn't take long for Malia to put a sandwich together. She dug around in the fridge to see if there was anything else to add to it, finding some very overdue potato salad in the process, and eventually settled on carrots and celery with ranch dip. She poured a glass of milk and brought it all over to the kitchen table before grabbing a couple paper towels for napkins.

When Melissa reappeared, she looked a little more relaxed. Her hair was damp and dripping and she was wearing her comfiest plaid pajamas and a pair of slippers as she plopped down in a seat at the table, patting the top to invite Malia to join her.

Pulling out a chair, Malia rested her arms on the table. "How was work?"

"Mmph." Melissa turned her eyes upward. " _Long_." Picking up one half of the sandwich, she sighed. "Concussions, a broken leg, food poisoning, and one guy who somehow put a nail straight through three of his fingers but all he would talk about was persistent knee pain. Like he didn't have a very serious hand wound."

Malia shook her head. "Your job is weird."

"Oh, I know. But, it pays the bills and I'm never short on clients." She took a bite of her sandwich and asked, "How about you? How was your day?"

"In comparison, really easy." Leaning back in her chair, Malia tapped her fingers against the table as a thought bubbled to the front of her mind. "Hey, do you think kids are inherently like their parents? Like, are they just kind of destined to turn out the same?"

Melissa stared at her a beat and then seemed to sit up a little straighter. "Is this about Henry? Has he been drinking again?"

Malia felt her whole body tense for a moment. "No, not him. I was just thinking... I mean, Scott, he's always wanted to be like you. You're basically his hero. So, becoming a vet was sort of a no brainer for him. And Stiles, he's following right behind his dad. Sure, the FBI isn't quite the same as the local Sheriff's office, but it's in the same stream. Anyway, I have this friend and her family is into some pretty hardcore stuff. But she's not really like that. She's... nice and kind and... I don't know. I can't imagine her turning out like them."

Melissa hummed thoughtfully. "Well, we're not all just one thing. People who are kind aren't always going to be that way. Situations and circumstances and people can change that. I don't think anyone's guaranteed to be one thing or the other. We all have choices. If we drift closer to a job or a characteristic that we see in a parent, it could be because we admire that in them and not that we've inherited the same drive for it. We're all shaped by the people around us and we make decisions about what we like or don't like based on what we see and how we feel. Scott is a good person that wants to help others, especially animals. So is Stiles, but his idea of 'help' is different."

"Yeah. That makes sense."

Finished one half of her sandwich, Melissa dusted her hands off and reached out to cover one of Malia's. "I know you don't like to talk about it... But when you were twelve and your dad was struggling, I made you a promise. If things ever got really bad, if you ever felt like you weren't safe or you needed somewhere to go... my door is always open. I know that Henry is a good person and that he wants the best for you. But I also know that grief can be debilitating and that addictions, if not treated, can destroy lives. And not just the addict's." She shook her head. "It's a disease and he needs help, but until he's ready to get that help, I need you to be safe."

"I know. I am. _Really._ " Malia half-smiled. "He's been trying lately. He talks to me more and he asks questions and... I don't know where it's going, but I hope it's somewhere."

"Okay." Melissa nodded. "But just so we're clear..."

"I'll come to you. I promise."

"Good." Returning to her food, Melissa said, "How's school been? There's a parent-teacher thing next week, isn't there?"

Malia groaned dramatically. "Don't remind me."

"Other than math, how are the rest of your grades?"

Strangely, her grades were actually pretty steady, and even math had come easier since Danny had begun tutoring her. She wouldn't call herself 'good' at it, exactly, but she was better than she had been. "All right."

"Yeah? Will Henry be at the meeting?"

"Probably, yeah." She shrugged. "I'll mention it to him tomorrow."

"Are you staying here tonight?"

Checking the time, Malia shook her head. "No. We've got school tomorrow. I should probably wake Stiles up, actually."

"Are you sure? After Scott goes to bed, the couch is open."

"No, it's fine. I've got Shiloh. She'll need to go out and I don't know if dad's fed her today."

"All right."

Malia pushed back from the table then. Before leaving, she leaned down to hug Melissa. "Thanks. You know, for caring and stuff."

Melissa patted her shoulder. "Always."

Leaving the kitchen, Malia made her way into the living room. She gave Stiles' chair a kick, jarring him awake, and said, "It's after eleven."

"What?" Voice raspy from sleep, he scrubbed at his eyes. Blinking a few times, he rolled himself off the chair and dragged his feet on the way to the door to dig around for his shoes.

Malia turned to Scott then, still passed out where she'd left him. Arms wrapped snug around himself, he sat tucked in the corner of the couch, floppy hair falling across his eyes, looking completely at peace. Crouching in front of him, she reached out and rubbed his shoulder gently. When that did nothing, she tapped her thumb against his cheek.

Slowly, Scott stirred, cracking his eyes open to a slit. He took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "Lia?"

"Hey. Stiles and I are heading home. It's late. You should go to bed."

His eyes drifted closed. "Mmhmm."

She smiled and tapped his cheek again. "Come on, Sleepyhead. If you sleep out here, you'll get a kink in your neck."

"'m comfortable."

"No, you're tired." Shifting to stand in front of him, she took his hands and pulled him up. He groaned, rocking a little on his heels, and gave her a sleepy frown. "Bed. Now."

His mouth ticked up a little. "Bossy."

"Yeah, well." She gave his shoulder a nudge and stepped back. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Nodding, he raised a hand in an attempted wave and then stumbled toward the stairs.

She watched him go until her jacket hit her in the face. As it dropped into her hands, she scowled at Stiles, who merely grinned back. "That's for kicking the chair."

Rolling her eyes, she pulled her jacket on and walked to the door. "You better not fall asleep at the wheel."

Stiles snorted. "No promises."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

The following morning, Malia's feet dragged as she walked down the hall. She could hear her jaw crack as she yawned, her mouth stretched wide, and gave her head a shake, trying to wake up a little more.

"Late night?"

Malia was surprised to find Erica walking next to her. "Kind of, yeah. And just a really bad sleep. I was tossing and turning all night. Weird dreams. You?"

"Surprisingly good, actually. I've got a history quiz I'm definitely going to fail, but I don't care because it's Friday and I officially get Saturday night off. Not that I have any plans for Saturday. I'm just looking forward to _not_ working."

"If there was a party, I'd invite you. But I'm probably going to spend my Saturday watching a movie, so..."

Erica hummed. "Not a bad idea. Maybe I'll rent something."

"What are your thoughts on horror?"

She shrugged. "Depends on my mood. Why?"

"Just curious. I'm a fan, personally. We should hang out sometime, have a movie marathon or something."

A slow grin formed on Erica's face that she was clearly trying, and failing, to mute. "Yeah, sure, that'd be great."

"Cool." Malia looked up then and spotted a familiar face making their way down the hall, keeping to the edges and blending in. "Hey, Boyd," she called out.

He looked up, surprised, his eyes wide. "Hey," he mumbled

"Chase down any skate stealers lately?"

He continued down the hall, but pivoted to face her. "No one yet, but if it happens, I'll send your suggestion up to head office."

"Liar."

He half-grinned and shook his head.

Erica stared down the hall after his retreating form before turning back to Malia. "Expanding your social circle?"

"More lately than in the last five years combined." She shrugged. "Hey, if you're not working Saturday, are you working Sunday?"

"Why, expecting a hangover from all that movie watching?"

Malia snorted. "Not this time. But, I had a few groceries to pick up and Sunday's usually the best day for it. Just wondered if we'd cross paths again."

"I'm working, so yeah. I'll even make sure we bring out the extra stock on those Doritos you like."

"You bring a lot of benefits to this friendship, Erica. I like it."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh."

When they reached Malia's locker, Erica motioned over her shoulder. "I should go. But, see you Sunday, I guess."

"Yeah." She nodded. "See you then. And hey, good luck on your quiz."

"Thanks!"

As Erica walked off, Malia focused on her comm. She'd just pulled her locker open when Allison appeared next to her.

"Hey!" Allison grinned, far too cheerful for so early in the morning.

"Hey. I'm feeling popular this morning." She shrugged her bag off her shoulder. "What's up?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to check that we're still on for dinner tonight."

"Yup." Malia hung her coat on the hook inside her locker. "I have to meet this aunt that you think I resemble."

Allison rolled her eyes lightly. "You'll love her, I promise."

The bell rang then, signalling a warning to start making their way to first class.

"English," Malia said, digging out her books. She looked to Allison then. "Which reminds me, we should really work on that essay some more."

"Sure. How about Sunday night?" She wiggled her eyebrows teasingly. "That way you can tell me how things went with Cole on Saturday."

Malia smothered a smile and shook her head. "Sure. Sunday works."

* * *

 **...**

* * *

"I know I'm walking dangerously close to being called a 'dick,' but hear me out..." Stiles laid on his back in the grass, one leg bent while his head rested on his backpack. He tossed an orange in the air and caught it in his palm, glancing from it to Malia, who was leaned back against her tree. "What's our biggest problem right now?"

"Math."

"What? _No_. A lack of information."

She shrugged. "That probably applies to math, too."

"The only person we _get_ information from is Derek, right? When he feels like giving it to us. Which appears to depend on his mood or maybe what stage the moon is in, I don't know."

"Uh-huh."

"So, what if... just spit-balling here… he's wrong."

She blinked at him. "That's your theory?"

"If Scott wasn't a werewolf, right, would we be on the side of the hunters? Like, if we knew that werewolves existed and that this alpha had killed two people, we'd be rooting for the hunters, wouldn't we? So, what if they have more information we could use? What if, because we met Derek first, we only _think_ he's the good guy. And that he's looking out for our best interests. I mean, we're in _high school_. We're teenagers and he wants us to help him track down some rabid, murdering werewolf."

"Your theory is flawed."

"Why?" He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Because you kind of like Derek and don't want him to be evil?"

"No. Because all information is filtered through experience. That means that werewolves will always be anti-hunter and paint them in a negative light and vice versa for the hunters. That means that all the information we get from them about each other is always going to be a least a _little_ wrong."

His brow furrowed. "So, what the hell do we do then?"

"Take everything with a grain of salt. Base our opinions about things on the individual and not the group." She shrugged. "Look, all we can really do is make sure that the hunters don't find out what Scott is. Not if Kate Argent is a shoot first, ask questions later kind of person. Derek might be a semi-unreliable source, but he _is_ a source. And I trust he's not going to come after Scott with a rifle, so fingers crossed he isn't bleeding out somewhere."

"Yeah." Stiles pursed his lips, gaze turned off thoughtfully. "What about tonight?"

"What about it?"

"You're going over to Allison's, right?"

"Yeah…" She frowned. "So?"

"So, isn't that poking the bear?" He shook his head. "Shouldn't we be _avoiding_ the Argents at all costs?"

"Allison is her own person, and I don't think she's a threat. Her dad and aunt, sure, but she's different."

"For how long?" Stiles stared at her searchingly. "How do we know that she isn't being trained to hunt, too?"

Malia's conversation with Melissa ran through her mind. The idea that no child _had_ to become like their parent. That free will would always be an option. That there was no pre-written rule that anybody was meant to turn out a certain way if they didn't want to. But, she also knew that patterns and experiences shaped people. That the Allison she knew today might not be the same she knew tomorrow. It would depend on what happened, on what her parents exposed her to, and how they spun the idea of werewolves when the time came. That or maybe Allison Argent was a better actor than Malia could ever expect. Maybe she'd been a trained hunter the whole time. Between gymnastics and archery, she had a good basis to work with.

With a sigh, Malia had to admit, "We don't."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Derek stumbled down the crowded, _loud_ hallways of Beacon Hills high school. Every inch of his body felt like it was on fire, ricocheting through his veins from one particular place on his arm. As much as it pained him to ask for help, that was exactly what he needed, and his choices were limited. Which was how he found himself being knocked into by faceless teenagers, his legs so heavy they hardly felt like they were moving with each drudging footstep. Breathless, he came to a stop and took a moment to try and steady himself, his vision slanting and his balance skewed enough to nearly topple him.

Seconds or minutes passed, he wasn't sure, but when he reopened his eyes and looked up, he saw a boy standing at his locker, putting away his books. _Jackson Whittemore_. Derek recognized him from the lacrosse team, the same one Scott shouldn't be playing on when he was clearly a threat to the general populace. But that was an issue for later. Right now, he needed directions.

Marching toward Jackson with as much strength as he could muster, Derek came to a stop just short of the boy. "Where's Malia Tate?"

Jackson startled and turned, looking Derek over quickly before closing his locker. "Excuse me?"

"Or Scott McCall, either one." Derek shook his head, impatient. "Where are they?"

Jackson snorted. "Why should I tell you?"

"Because I asked you politely." Derek's brows arched. "And I only do that once."

"Hmm." Jackson smirked and crossed his arms. "Okay, tough guy. You know, how about I help you find them if you tell me what you're selling McCall? What is it? Is it, uh…" He leaned in and glanced around to make sure no one would overhear him. "Dianabol? Hmm? HGH?"

Derek stared at him, uncomprehending for a moment. But then, it dawned on him. Of course this kid wouldn't immediately assume that Scott was a supernatural creature. Instead, he went to a simpler reason for Scott's sudden increase in reflexes. "Steroids." He scoffed and took a step away to pass him. They might be on the same team, but he suddenly realized that Jackson wouldn't be of any help.

Jackson stepped in Derek's way and pressed a hand to his chest to stop him. "No, girl scout cookies," he snarked. "What the hell do you think I'm talking about? Oh and, uh, by the way, whatever it is you're selling…" He sucked in a breath and winced with faux concern. "I'd probably stop sampling the merchandise. You look _wrecked_."

Derek looked down. Beneath the cover of his jacket, blood drenched his arm and hand; he could feel it dripping to the floor below. Folding his hand into a fist, he gathered up what little restraint he had left, turned a dismissive look on Jackson, and walked past him. "I'll find them myself."

Jackson grabbed at the collar of Derek's jacket to pull him back. "No, we're not done—"

Restraint lost, Derek spun around, shoved Jackson's arm away, and grabbed him up by the back of his neck, slamming him face first against the lockers. Without meaning to, his claws sunk into the nape of Jackson's neck, drawing blood. He pulled his fingers free and then released him, hurrying down the hall. The scent of Jackson's fear burned Derek's nostrils. He turned a corner and came to a stop, leaning against a grey brick wall as he tried to catch his breath once more. His knees were wobbling, his skin felt tight, and his throat was painfully dry. It felt like the flu, only on a whole new level. Like a fever was burning its way through him and if he didn't starve it out of himself, he wasn't going to make it to the other side.

Suddenly, his hearing got away from him— the scrape of chalk on a blackboard, chairs squeaking, blaring music, a staticky voice on a phone, the tick of a locker com turning, fingers clicking away at the keyboard of a Blackberry, and then a voice—

"Did you invite Malia over for dinner tonight?"

"Lydia, hey. Yeah, I had a rough class too. I'm so glad it's Friday."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. We're friends and pleasantries are overrated. Now, back to what I asked. Is Malia coming to some super special family dinner tonight while _I_ didn't even get an invite?"

"Um… Would you want one?"

"That's beside the point," Lydia dismissed. "I'm not sure I like the hierarchy that's growing here. If you'll remember, you met _me_ first. I should take priority."

"There's no hierarchy and I don't have a preference." Allison laughed lightly. "Honestly, I just thought Malia would really like Kate. And I know Friday you're usually with Jackson, so I didn't even think to ask."

"We have plans, so I wouldn't be able to go. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't get a courtesy invite."

"You literally _just_ said that friends don't need pleasantries."

"Well, this is different." Lydia sniffed haughtily. "In future, I expect an invite any time Malia gets one."

"Okay, but that means the same goes for you. If you're going to invite me to things, you should invite Malia, too."

There was a pause before Lydia said, "She's not my friend. She's _yours_."

"Lydia, come on…" Allison sighed. "We've only been friends a few weeks, but I think I know you well enough to say that you like Malia."

Reluctantly, Lydia admitted, "She's not completely terrible."

"Uh-huh." Allison sounded amused. "I stand by what I said. _But_ , in future, I promise I'll invite you, too. It's just going to be dinner. My parents, my aunt, me and Malia. Scott's leaving before dinner starts, so hopefully we get to avoid any kind of interrogation."

Lydia hummed. "Does Malia know that you and Scott are going to be _studying_ before she comes over?"

"Actually studying and not with extra emphasis you put on it, yeah. I mentioned it to her. Why?"

"No reason. Just, those two are really close, aren't they?"

"Okay... And?"

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Why would it? Malia's my friend and Scott's… I mean, we've had one date. I like him, but…"

"But what?"

"Nothing. I just—"

The bell rang then. It was shrill, like spikes boring into Derek's brain. He covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head back as he tried to block out the all too acute sound. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was more than enough. When it ended, he grimaced, giving his head a shake and pushing off the wall. He needed to find Malia or Scott— _immediately_.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _i decided to try to get this up tonight since the last two weeks have been out later on sunday. i've edited it, but i'm EXHAUSTED so i feel like i probably missed a few mistakes. if you catch them, let me know and i'll fix them._ _i know i said injured!derek would be in this chapter and originally he was going to be a lot more of a focus, but then i fleshed out a lot of the other scenes and so derek's scenes were pushed into the next chapter._ _a lot of this chapter felt like just a filler to get the plot moving toward where i needed it to be for this coming chapter, so i hope it wasn't boring._

 **things to look forward to next chapter** _: injured derek and worried malia; snoopy scott; defensive malia; kate and malia snark; and allison gets a better look at the malia/scott dynamic. ;)_

 _thanks so much for reading, please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	13. magic bullet 3

**word count** : 15,874  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : 1x04 - magic bullet

* * *

 **XIII**

Stepping out of the school, Malia spread her arms out and threw her head back. " _Freedom._ "

Walking next to her, Danny snorted. "You need a ride home?"

She dropped her hands to her sides and shrugged. "Sure, if you don't mind."

"It'll give me a chance to pop quiz you."

"Seriously? Can I never escape math?"

He laughed under his breath. "Nope."

The squeal of tires caught her attention then and Malia's gaze moved to the parking lot. Stiles' jeep was idling at the center and standing in front of it was Derek. Her brow furrowed. "Uh… You know what, I just remembered Stiles offered to give me a ride home."

Danny raised an unconvinced eyebrow. "Sounds like a pretty pathetic excuse to get out of quiz prep."

She grinned. "What can I say? I like to live dangerously when it comes to tests."

"Uh-huh." He rolled his eyes. "Monday, study block. Be ready."

"Sounds good. Hey, enjoy your hiking date."

Danny winked at her. "I plan to."

As he walked off, Malia hurried toward the parking lot. The car behind Stiles was honking their horn while Derek had fallen limp to the ground. She could see Scott cutting toward them from where his bike was locked up.

"Shit, shit, shit," Malia muttered, picking up her pace.

The situation was attracting attention. Students from all over were turning to look, trying to see what the hold up was.

By the time Malia reached Derek's side, kneeling on the pavement at his shoulder, Stiles was just hopping out of his jeep. He and Scott joined her, staring down at Derek curiously.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Malia tucked her hair behind her ears and stared down at Derek. He was washed out with dark bags under his eyes, his skin sallow and sweaty. "You look terrible."

"Just what I came here to hear."

Scott knelt next to Malia and looked Derek over, his brows hiked.

Derek managed to push himself up to a half-seated position, his breathing heavy and strangled.

Malia tucked an arm around him to hold him up and turned a knowing look on Scott. "It was him, not the alpha."

"You were the one she shot?" Scott frowned. "What were you doing there?"

"What were _you?_ "

Stiles' hands found his hips as he looked around nervously. "He's not looking so good."

"Why aren't you healing?" Scott wondered.

"I can't. It was—" He struggled to breathe. "It was a different _kind_ of bullet."

Stiles leaned in eagerly. "Silver bullet?"

Derek glared up at him. "No, you idiot."

Scott turned to Malia. "Forty-eight hours…"

"It's been what, 36 at this point?" She grimaced. "He looks ready to kick the bucket."

"She was guesstimating…" He sighed. "Forty-eight was a best-case scenario."

"What?" Derek stared at him. "Who?"

"Kate," Malia answered, her mouth pursed. "Chris Argent's sister is visiting and she decided to kick it off with a little hunting. Apparently, you got caught in the crosshairs."

Derek suddenly winced, his eyes glowing a bright blue and his teeth elongating.

Scott's eyes widened and he looked around frantically, worried someone might see. "What're you _doing?_ Stop that!"

"I don't think he can help it." Malia looked down to where Derek was clutching at his arm, old and new blood covered his hand, fingers curled into his palm, claws out and tearing through the leather fabric of his jacket. "Whatever kind of bullet it was, I think it's affecting his ability to stay in control."

"You mean…" Stiles tapped a foot nervously. "He could shift and _kill_ us?"

Malia leaned back to see a long line of cars had formed behind Stiles' jeep. "Look, we need to get him up and out of here before someone starts asking questions." Horns were honking rapidly and people were starting to get out of their cars. She could see Allison in the distance, casting a curious eye down the way, while an impatient Jackson had climbed out of his car to see what was happening. "Help me get him up."

Malia stood, hooked an arm under Derek's, and waited for Scott to do the same on the other side. Together, they hauled him onto his feet and walked him toward the passenger door of the jeep. Once he was settled in the front seat, Malia hopped into the back.

Derek gritted his teeth, his chest heaving. "I need to know what kind of bullet it was."

Scott frowned. "How the hell are we supposed to find that out?"

"She's an _Argent_." He turned his head and looked back at Malia. "You'll be there tonight, won't you?"

"It's weird that you know that..." she muttered.

"Wait, what?" Scott's brow furrowed. "You're going to Allison's tonight?"

"Yeah, for dinner." Malia shrugged. "After you two finish your study session." To Derek, she said "I can't exactly guarantee anything. I doubt Kate's going to talk special bullets over dinner, but I'll do what I can."

" _Snoop_ ," he demanded.

Scott made a frustrated noise. "You're asking her to put herself in danger. If the Argents find out she's looking for something, you don't know what they'll do."

"Strong words for a guy dating one of them." Derek dropped his head back against the seat and dragged in a ragged breath. "You put yourself and me and _her_ in danger every day, so excuse me if I don't—" He cut himself off with another groan, his body tensing as pain flared through him once more.

"We need to go." Malia turned to Scott. "You're going to Allison's now, right?"

He nodded.

"See if you can find something. I'll be there in a couple hours."

"You want _me_ to look?" He shook his head. "How am I supposed to do that? Allison will notice."

"Tell her you're going to the bathroom or something. I don't know. Just find a way."

He sighed and then looked past Derek to Stiles, who was frowning now. "I'll call you guys if I find anything."

"I hate you for this, so much." Still, Stiles put the jeep in drive. "He's gonna bleed all over my seats…"

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Malia shifted into the middle seat and leaned forward. "How bad is it?"

" _Bad_." Derek shifted around in his seat, his neck strained and sweat pouring down his skin. "Can Scott handle this?"

Malia frowned and looked at Stiles, who stared back at her through the rear-view mirror. He was just as unsure as she was.

"Of course he can. But, just in case, in two hours, I can join the search. Can you last that long?"

Derek huffed a laugh at her candor. "Yeah. I can last."

" _Good_."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Stiles grunted under the weight of Derek's body, angled sideways to help half-carry him inside the Tate house.

Malia rolled her eyes. "You're so dramatic."

"This guy is like 200 pounds of muscle packed in the most ungrateful person I've ever met."

"He's hardly said anything since we left the school." She kicked her front door closed behind her. "Bring him to my room. If my dad shows up, we'll have to sneak him out my window."

Stiles stumbled his way around the living room, nearly tripping over a foot steel in the process. Grunting irritably, he told her, "He shows up out of the blue, bleeds all over my jeep, and now he's sent Scott—a _werewolf_ — into a house full of werewolf _hunters_ to find a _s_ ingle bullet. Never mind that they're also arms dealers, meaning the whole house is probably _packed_ with bullets. He's practically setting him up to fail. Who does that?"

"Desperate, fatally wounded people?" She maneuvered them down the hall leading to her bedroom, knocking a family photo off the wall in the process. Wincing, she shook her head, and kept going, nudging her bedroom door open with her hip and backing through it.

A low growl could be heard then and Malia stilled. Turning her head, she saw Shiloh standing next to the bed, carefully keeping her injured leg off the floor. She bared her teeth and barked, her whole body tensed up, and the fur along her back standing straight. Malia could honestly say she'd never seen Shiloh react so aggressively before. Was it that Derek was a werewolf, she wondered, or maybe that he was sick and possibly dying?

Stiles waved a hand. "See, she knows what's up."

Malia sighed. "Shiloh, _heel_."

Shiloh kept her gaze on Derek and licked her teeth, leaning forward and lowering her head, staring up at him from sharp and focused eyes.

" _Shiloh_ ," she snapped.

Immediately, Shiloh pulled back, her ear pressed down against her head. She let out a worried whine and barked, a little higher now and not the intimidating bark she'd given before.

"To your bed," Malia ordered.

With a huff, Shiloh made her way to the corner of the room, her tail down. She crawled on top of the padded bed and curled up into a ball, watching them as they continued across the floor, growling irritably as Malia and Stiles maneuvered Derek down onto Malia's bed. Where Malia was gentle, Stiles seemed to just release him to gravity before backing up and eyeing him skeptically.

"He's sweating like crazy." Malia frowned. "Should we do something? Do we put more blankets on him or help him cool down? I've never had to do this."

"What, take care of a magically injured werewolf? Yeah, it's not your average practice." Stiles dug around in his jeans for his phone. "I'll Google it."

"I'm pretty sure the first thing it'll say is 'take him to the hospital.'" She put her hands on her hips and stared down at him searchingly.

Derek's eyes were closed, his hair damp and stuck to his forehead.

"Here, we should take his jacket off." She reached down and started carefully maneuvering it off one shoulder, pulling his arm free before she circled around to the other side. But as she tried to draw that arm out, he tensed and his eyes shot open. They briefly shone a brilliant blue before dying down to a bloodshot green. He stared at her, the dark bags under his eyes that much more pronounced. "Laura?"

Malia glanced back at Stiles, who shrugged, his eyes wide. Frowning, she looked back at Derek. "I need to get your jacket off, okay?"

"Where's mom?" His eyes fell to half-mast. "I want mom."

Malia felt her heart tug. "She's not here right now. It's just me." She peeled the fabric down his arm. "This is gonna hurt, okay?"

"My fault… It was my fault…"

Malia paused.

Stiles stepped forward then, his head cocked curiously. "What was?"

Derek let out a heavy breath. "Do you hate me…? Laur? Please, don't hate me."

She swallowed tightly. "No. I don't hate you." Malia carefully pulled Derek's arm out, only to find the sleeve of his sweater was soaked through in liquid and a fowl smell was coming off him.

"Do you smell that? 'Cause there is a _serious_ smell coming off him…"

Malia walked to her desk, grabbed a pair of scissors out of a jar, and returned, bouncing them off her palm. She see-sawed back and forth between her feet for a moment before finally reaching for the end of Derek's sleeve. It took some effort and the cut was jagged, but eventually, she'd opened the sleeve up high enough to better see the bullet hole. All around it, the skin was a pink and sore looking, but it wasn't confined to just the hole. There were blotchy patches all over his arm, as if the infection was spreading. She grimaced as blood and a cloudy liquid streamed from the hole. "That looks… a lot worse than I was expecting."

"Oh my _God_!" Stiles backed up, his arms out. "Is that thing contagious?"

Derek threw his head back then, thick veins standing out against his neck. His legs kicked, heels digging into the bed. Seconds felt like minutes as he thrashed in pain and then— _nothing_. He sunk back against the mattress and let out a ragged sigh.

"Is he dead?" Stiles wondered.

Malia pressed a pair of fingers to Derek's neck and let out a sigh of relief. "Just passed out."

With a hum, Stiles nervously rubbed a hand over his head. "What, uh, what do you think he meant when he said it was his fault?"

She pursed her lips. "I don't know. I don't think it really matters right now."

"What? Of course it does!" His eyes widened. "What if it's about Scott? What if he's the reason Scott was bit?"

Malia shook her head. "I don't think it's about Scott at all. I think…" Her brow furrowed. "I think it's about his family. He thought I was his sister, Laura. That's who he came here for. Maybe he thinks it's his fault she died. That he wasn't there to save her or something."

"Maybe." Stiles didn't look convinced, frowning and tapping his fingers against his chin. "So, what now?"

"Text Scott. Tell him where we are. See if he's found anything yet."

With a nod, Stiles turned on his heel, leaving the room with his phone in hand.

Malia returned her attention to Derek then. He looked vulnerable in a way he'd never seemed before. The hard edges of his face relaxed, young, almost boyish. She was reminded that he wasn't that much older than her. She forgot sometimes. His prickly personality made him seem older and more in control. But he wasn't, was he? He was just as lost as the rest of them.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

 _"Even werewolves get sick from time to time." Talia sat on the edge of the bed, dabbing at Derek's forehead with a cool cloth. "It's a reminder that we aren't so separate from the humans after all."_

 _Derek's entire body was on fire from the inside out. Flames eating away at his organs before burning through his skin. That was how it felt, at least. What it looked like on the outside was sweat and weakness. "But we heal." He dug his elbows down against the bed as he willed the blankets wrapped around him to grow simultaneously thicker and thinner. If he wasn't bursting with heat, an icy chill filled his veins, making his teeth chatter and his bones rattle. "I shouldn't get sick."_

 _"As shifters, our immune systems are stronger than the average person, that's true. And it takes a lot to infect us, but when it does…" She frowned. "Sometimes, the only thing you can do is wait an illness out."_

 _"What if I can't?" So much of him wanted to give up. To close his eyes and will away the pain in whatever way he could. He blamed Peter. His uncle had brought him to the family vault and told him not to touch anything, but Derek was bored. He'd wandered down aisle after aisle until eventually finding an intricate wooden box. Inside were six vials of something unidentifiable. A black liquid with tiny green flecks swirling around inside. He'd picked one up to sniff it. A stupid idea. But, he hadn't thought whatever was inside could hurt him. Peter had grabbed it from him, quickly capped the top, and then knocked him out cold. When Derek woke up, it was to find himself at home, in excruciating pain, his mother next to him._

 _"You will." Arms crossed over his broad chest, Derek's father stepped out from the shadows to peer down at Derek with a stern expression. "Consider it a test. The sooner you pass, the sooner the pain will leave."_

 _Drowsy, Derek muttered, "I didn't study."_

 _His father laughed, a booming, rocky noise from deep in his chest. "It's not the kind of test you can study for."_

 _"What if I fail?"_

 _"Then you die."_

 _Derek's eyes opened wider then, his brows arched. "Really?"_

 _Joseph Khol wasn't a hyperbolic man. He said what he meant and didn't waste words when he didn't need to. While Derek's mom carefully weighed her words before saying them, it felt different. Talia was genuine. When she spoke, people listened. When Joseph spoke, people tended to cower. He expected better of his children and Derek worried that he might be letting him down in this moment. Would his father regret him if he died? Or would he mourn him? Was there a middle-ground that included both?_

 _"Derek," Talia's said, firm and demanding._

 _He turned his gaze to her, searching her face. "Am I gonna die?"_

 _Her smile was slow and soft. "No, my love. You're going to fight. And you're going to live."_

 _"How do you know?"_

 _"Because I know you." She reached for him, her fingers gentle against his cheek. "You're stronger than you think. You always have been."_

 _Derek swallowed tightly and leaned into her fingers, seeking out the comfort she shared in spades. "I feel weak."_

 _"We all do. But we don't let a temporary weakness rule us. You will survive and you'll be stronger for it."_

 _"That's right," his father said. "We don't fail. We_ fight _. And we continue."_

 _Derek looked from one to the other until finally, he nodded. "Okay." He wasn't sure how strong he was or how long his fight would go on, but he trusted them._

* * *

 **…**

* * *

An hour later, they still hadn't heard from Scott, and Derek wasn't looking any better. He'd woken up, though. That was an upside.

"Where am I?" He looked around, brow furrowed and movements sluggish.

Malia had rolled her desk chair over to the side of the bed and was sitting in it, legs crossed under her. She chewed on a granola bar, swiping the crumbs from her lap. "My place. We thought about going to yours, but considering you weren't there when we went looking for you yesterday, I wasn't sure if you were avoiding it or something."

"Too open." He sunk back against the pillow, as relaxed as a person could be while suffering intense pain. "Can't protect myself when I'm like this."

"And you trust a few teenagers to do a better job?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure you put your eggs in the right basket here."

Derek snorted. "Kind of limited on who I can trust."

"Should I be flattered?"

He turned his gaze in her direction and searched her face. "Maybe. I don't know…" He sighed. "You remind me of someone."

Malia nodded thoughtfully. "Laura? You called me that before you passed out."

"I did?" He looked away, confused. "Did I say anything else?"

She considered telling him, but then thought better of it. He didn't owe her an explanation around his family trauma and he'd probably second guess their help if he thought he might be spilling personal truths. As complicated as this situation was, she needed to see it through. "No. Not really."

A beat passed before he said, "Not Laura. You kinda look like her, but that's not who you remind me of."

"No?"

He swallowed tightly, licking dry lips and letting out a sigh through his nose. "I had twin sisters, a year younger than me. Gabriela and Adrienne… They, uh, they were like you."

Her brow furrowed. "How's that?"

"Blunt." His mouth inched up faintly. "Adrienne said everything she ever thought. No filter. Used to drive people crazy. Teachers were always sending home notes, said she was defiant and rude. Our dad, he'd tell her not to change. That if people didn't like hearing the truth, then they should change what they were doing to provoke it." He shook his head. "He would've liked you."

Malia leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "You must miss them."

Derek winced. "Every day." He turned his head to look at her. "What about you? You miss yours?"

She stared back at him, her chest feeling tight, like a cleaver was lodged in it. "Every day."

He nodded and licked dry, chapped lips. "Was it quick? Your mom and your sister."

"They said it was… Never felt a thing."

Malia always wondered about that. If her dad said it to make her feel better. What if it was the opposite? She'd had her fair share of nightmares about exactly that. Of Kylie bleeding out in the backseat, crying for their mom, their dad, for _her_. Or her mom, remembering the last thing they'd said to each other, regretting it, wishing it could be different. Were they scared? Did they know it was coming while it was happening? Or was it over before they could even realize?

"Mine weren't so lucky." Derek's face darkened, his gaze distant.

Fire was a worse way to go, wasn't it? Smoke inhalation would be a small mercy. But burning? That had to be one of the most painful ways to go.

"Has Scott found the bullet yet?"

Malia shook her head, trying to rid it of her dark and morbid thoughts. "No. He's working on it." She didn't know that for sure, actually. Since he wasn't picking up or answering any of Stiles' frantic texts.

Malia wondered if Derek would catch on to her lie; could he heart it in her heartbeat or smell it on her somehow? It seemed his pain was too much of a distraction for him to use any of those tricks, however, since he instead seemed to take her word at face value.

His breathing seemed shallower, chest noticeably heaving and dipping each time he attempted a breath. "Gab… Gabriela used to say she was the nice one."

"Nice what?"

"Twin." He was looking at her, but Malia wasn't sure he was seeing her. "They used to follow me everywhere... When I was a kid, mom used to call them my ducklings…" He blinked quickly against a sheen of tears. "I'd complain all the time, tell them to go away, but they never did… She told me I'd miss it one day, that I'd miss _them._ I didn't believe her… I was wrong."

Malia fiddled with the cuff of her sweater, digging her nails into the braided fabric. "Kylie used to follow me, too. She was like my shadow. We fought about it a lot. Sometimes I just needed space…" She swallowed against a ball of emotion— regret, pain, loss— lodged in her throat. "After she died, I could feel it, you know? That absence..." She shook her head. "I couldn't hear her footsteps right behind me anymore… I was alone. And I hated it."

He gritted his teeth as another wave of pain ran through him. Malia could see the strain in his muscles, the fatigue in his face, but he road it through, every time. When his head slid sideways and his body fell flat once more, she panicked a little. Reaching for him, she pressed her fingers to his wrist, searching for a pulse.

He jumped and his eyes shot open, focusing on her, glazed with pin-prick pupils. He grabbed at her forearm and squeezed. "Don't tell mom. Promise me, Laur. Please?"

Malia winced at the pressure of his fingers. "Derek, let go."

He shook his head. "I won't see her again. It was a mistake. A stupid mistake. I'll never… I won't… I promise…" His fingers loosened, hand eventually falling back to the bed, and Derek was lost once more to sleep.

Sitting back in her chair, Malia rubbed at her arm, her mouth turned down in a frown.

"Hey, any progress?" Stiles wandered into the room, looking from Derek to Malia.

"No." She cleared her throat, the lingering taste of her grief still bitter in her mouth. "You?"

He shook his head. "Scott's still not picking up." He chewed on a fingernail. "Should we do something? What if he's in trouble?"

Malia sighed. "I don't know."

"He's in a house full of hunters. What if they have a way to figure out if a person's a werewolf and they do it to anyone who visits? What if that's happening right now and that's why he's not texting us?" He started pacing. "What if when you show up, they spring a trap on you, too?"

" _Stiles_ ," she snapped. "Worrying isn't helping. Just keep texting him."

"Yeah, because we've had so much luck with that." Still, he dug his phone out.

Turning her attention back to the bed, Malia frowned down at a sleeping Derek. She wondered what he was dreaming about.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

 _Derek stirred awake, every bone feeling like liquid. He turned his head to find a familiar face sitting in a chair next to him._

 _Adrienne snorted. "You look like crap. The wet kind that someone just stepped in."_

 _Standing next to her, Gabriela cuffed Adrienne's shoulder. "Be nice. He almost died."_

 _"Are we sure he didn't? He's as pale as a ghost."_

 _Gabriela rolled her eyes before telling Derek, "Mom's herbology friend mixed something up for you. It's not a cure, but it's supposed to help flush your system out."_

 _Derek hummed. "What time is it?"_

 _"Don't you mean what_ day _is it? You've been out for two days straight, Sleeping Beauty." Adrienne leaned back in her chair and wrinkled her nose. "You're starting to stink."_

 _Gabriela nodded. "Ben's on sponge bath duty. He's gonna drop in later."_

 _Derek grimaced. "I don't need his help. I can't do it myself."_

 _"You can barely move." Adrienne rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I asked mom if I could have your room after you died and she said I had to ask you first. So… can I?"_

 _"No."_

 _Scowling, she reached over and flicked his arm. "Jerk."_

 _"Take it easy, Ade." Gabriela knocked against Adrienne's chair with her hip. "He's weak enough, he'll probably bruise."_

 _"Are you telling me to stop or not to leave any evidence?"_

 _Gabriela shrugged. "Either."_

 _A half-grin turned up Adrienne's lips, but she retracted her hand. "Laura said we should read to you or something. Help distract you from the pain."_

 _"Doesn't hurt so much anymore…" Actually, he felt kind of numb. In an entirely terrifying way, in fact. "You think that's a bad sign?"_

 _Adrienne and Gabriela exchanged a look and then turned back to him. Together, at the same time, they said, "No." — "Yes."_

 _He sighed. "Both of you suck."_

 _Gabriela shrugged. "At least we know better than to go sniffing weird things in the family vault."_

 _He rolled his eyes and leaned back against his pillow. "Go away."_

 _"Fine." Adrienne hopped off the chair and walked to the door. "See if we visit you on your next death bed!"_

 _Gabriela followed, drawing the door closed as she went. "Get better already. You're dragging down everyone's mood."_

 _Derek stared at the steepled roof of his bedroom until boredom or illness or both swept him back into the lurking darkness of sleep._

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia dabbed a cool cloth against a sleeping Derek's face and frowned. "What time is it?"

Stiles was pacing. "How would we explain this to my dad? I mean, we got this guy arrested like a week ago. If he dies, that's not going to look too good on us."

"He's not gonna die."

"Says who? Are you seeing the same thing I'm seeing? His arm is something out of a sci-fi movie, there's some kind of infection in his veins, and his fever? Yeah, right off the charts. Any regular human's brain would be leaking out the ears, that's how high his fever is, all right? He's not just knocking on death's door, he kicked it in."

" _Stiles_." Malia looked up at him. "I know you're freaking out, but we need to focus. I don't know what Scott's doing, but if he can't find that bullet, then I'm going to have to. Which is why I need to know what time it is."

"Right." He turned his phone over and grimaced. "Almost five. Is that too early?"

She sighed. "Has he texted back at all?"

"No, nothing. He— Wait, he's typing." He stared down at this phone impatiently. "Come on, come on..." He frowned. "Okay. All he said is that he's looking."

"It's something. He's not dead at least."

"Wait, how do we know this is really him?" Stiles snapped his fingers, his eyes wide. "What if the Argents figured it out and they're just pretending to be Scott and he's strung up in their dungeon or something."

She blinked. "Dungeon…?"

"They're hunters. It's not a stretch to think they have a torture dungeon."

"Uh-huh." Malia pulled her own phone out and typed out a message to Scott _—_ ' _stiles thinks you're hunter chow and someone else is texting from your phone. proof of life?_ '

Malia stared at her phone, watching as a bubble appeared to show he was typing, and then— _'your middle name is natalia_.' Half-smiling, she looked up. "It's him."

"Why? How? What'd he say?"

"I tested him and he passed." She shrugged. "All we can do is wait. If he finds something _—_ _great_. If not, I'll be there in an hour anyway."

Stiles frowned and turned a look on Derek. "Are we sure he has that long?"

Malia sighed. No, they weren't.

"I already dug up one grave. It's hard work." He shook his head. "I don't think I could dig another one. It was hard enough carrying him from the jeep."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's my top concern right now. How hard it's going to be to carry a dead body into the woods and bury it."

He held his hands up. "It's worth considering. That's all I'm saying."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

 _"The water's too hot."_

 _Ben rolled his eyes. "It's not too hot, that's in your head." He sat on a chair next to the bathtub, a booted foot resting on the rim and his hands clasped together in his lap. "C'mon, you said you could to this. I'm just here to make sure you don't drown."_

 _"I_ can _." Derek glared at him and reached for the cloth floating by his knee. "Everybody keeps treating me like I'm gonna break."_

 _"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you sniff something that puts even the strongest werewolf down." He winked reassuringly. "But you're out of the woods now."_

 _"Then why do I still feel so tired?"_

 _"Your body's healing—_ slowly. _It'll get there." Ben shook his head, a half smile forming. "You ask me, it's pretty cool."_

 _Derek's brow furrowed. "How?"_

 _"You survived something that's taken out people a lot bigger and a lot stronger."_

 _Pursing his lips, Derek scrubbed down his arms, wincing as they seemed to grow heavier with each movement. "I don't feel like I did."_

 _Ben had nothing to say to that, instead resting his head against the back of the chair and staring at the ceiling. A few beats passed before he said, "Mom was pretty worried."_

 _"She was?" Derek looked up, surprised. "She didn't look worried."_

 _"She was trying to be strong for you, that's what she does. But alpha's get scared, too. You're not just her beta, you're her son."_

 _"Yeah, but..." He grimaced. "I screw up all the time. Last year, with Paige... and now this."_

 _"You're a kid." Ben shrugged. "It's gonna happen. Best you can do is learn from it."_

 _"I'm not a kid," he grumbled. "You always talk to me like I'm little. I'm sixteen."_

 _"Yeah, and I remember the trouble I used to get in when I was your age." Ben lifted his head to look at him. "You're a lot younger than you think you are. You've been through some stuff, but that's just the beginning. If you're lucky, this'll be the worst thing that happens to you."_

 _Derek sighed. He rested his arms on his knees for a moment. "Nothing could be as bad as what happened to Paige... I did that."_

 _"You made a mistake and after, you did what you had to." Ben grabbed up the washcloth then and plopped it down on Derek's head, sending water streaming down the sides of his face. "I'm not gonna lie to you. Last year was rough. You did some things you can't take back. But... your heart was in the right place. You fall in love and you think that's the be all, end all. We all go through it. When I was sixteen, it was Chelsea Wong. She was smart, beautiful, funny. My dream girl."_

 _"What happened?"_

 _"We made it a year. It was great, but we were young and we were both figuring out who we were. It just didn't work out. Sometimes you grow apart, even if you don't want to."_

 _"Paige was different." He pulled the cloth down and fiddled with it between his fingers. "I'm never gonna forget what I did."_

 _"Maybe not. But at some point, you're going to have to forgive yourself."_

 _He frowned. "Why?"_

 _"What kind of life are you gonna have if you spend it regretting a mistake you made when you were a kid?"_

 _"I don't know."_

 _Ben's hand clamped down on Derek's neck and gave him a little shake. "You're a good person, Derek. You just do stupid things sometimes. You'll grow out of it, trust me. I did."_

 _Derek snorted. "You sure about that?"_

 _Ben grinned. "Shut up. And will you finish washing up already? Don't make me actually bathe you. I've got no bedside manner."_

 _He rolled his eyes. "You're in med school. Isn't that a requirement?"_

 _"What, I have to save lives_ and _be nice to people?" He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Sooner you wash up, the sooner we can steal the TV from Laura. One good thing about you almost dying is that half the family was so worried, they'll do just about anything to help you feel better."_

 _"What about the other half?"_

 _"They're still trying to figure out who should get your bedroom."_

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Do you hear that?"

"What?" Stiles' jerked his hand out of a bag of potato chips, crumbs still stuck to his chin, his eyes darting worriedly. "Heard what?"

"That's my dad's truck. He's here." She pushed off her chair and hurried to the door, closing it quickly. "We need to go. _Now_."

He wiped his hand off on his jeans and tossed the open bag on to Malia's desk. "But if we just stay in your room, Scott can bring us the bullet here."

She shook her head. "No. We can't risk it. We need to move him."

" _Where?_ "

"We'll figure it out on the way. Look, I'll help you get him out the window, but you'll have to get him to the jeep. I'll distract my dad."

"Are you kidding me? I barely got him in here and that was _with_ your help!"

She shushed him and pressed her ear against her door. She could hear her dad's clomping steps moving around the floor. "Stiles, seriously, you need to go." Crossing to her window, she yanked it open and then turned to the bed. "Help me with him."

With a sigh, Stiles moved to the other side of the bed. Together, they heaved Derek up and onto his feet.

His eyes fluttered open and he looked between them, brow furrowed and mouth set in a frown. "What's happening?"

"Road trip." Malia pulled his arm over her shoulders and helped him walk. "This is gonna suck, but I need you to climb out the window. Stiles is going to help you on the other side. I'll be right out. We're gonna take you somewhere else. Somewhere safe."

Derek's head lolled to one side.

"I'm gonna take that as your wholehearted approval." She patted his chest and then motioned to Stiles. "You go first, then you can help him through."

"Yeah, great. And when I drop him on the porch and you and your dad come out, what am I supposed to say?" Stiles ducked through the window and landed on the porch, motioning with his hands. "All right, let's do this."

"Derek." Malia caught his chin and gave it a shake, waking him. "Stay with me, okay?"

"Laura?" he mumbled.

She sighed. "Yeah, it's me _—_ Laura. Look, I need you to do this, okay? Just climb through the window."

"It hurts. Everything hurts."

"I know. But, you _have_ to do this."

He grimaced but eventually reached out, planting his good hand against the window sill and ducking through it. It took some time, but eventually, he was able to climb out, nearly toppling as his legs seemed to cave from under him.

"Okay, all right, I got him." Stiles waved her off. "Go!"

Malia shoved her window closed and then raced across her room, walking through her door to make her way into the living room. Henry was sitting on the couch, an unopened beer can in hand. "Hey... you're home early."

"Yeah, long day at work. Just wanted to get home, kick my feet up." Henry frowned, tapping his fingers against the top of the can. "Thought you were having dinner at your friend's house. Addison or something."

"Allison," she corrected. "And I am. I'm just about to head there now." She heard a thud then and winced.

Henry frowned. "What was that?"

"Shiloh," she lied. "She, uh, she keeps getting on my bed and when she jumps down her cast knocks against the floor. It's kind of loud."

"Should she be doing that? She's not going to hurt herself?"

"She's doing okay. She has a check-up with Deaton next week, but I think she's healing all right." Her gaze wandered to the window then and she watched Stiles and Derek weave awkwardly across the porch to reach the stairs. She could see a red-faced Stiles panting, his face screwed up with the effort he was exerting.

"Saw Stiles' jeep parked out front. Is he here?"

"He is, yeah. He's driving me to Allison's. He's not inside though, he was... He's in the woods."

"The woods." Henry blinked. "Why?"

"A biology project. He needs to find something... biological... and it's supposed to grow around here, so..." She shrugged. "Anyway, I should go. Find him. And leave." She pointed at the door. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah, sure." He cracked the tab on his beer and Malia winced. "Have a good time, honey."

"Thanks."

Malia rushed out the door, closing it behind her with a snap. Stiles and Derek had only made it halfway down the driveway by the time she reached them. "Did you fall?"

"A little." Stiles huffed. "He's heavy, okay?"

Shaking her head, Malia helped carry him the rest of the way. She yanked the door open and got Derek situated inside before climbing into the back.

"I don't want to be the bearer of bad news here, but we're running out of time." Stiles yanked his door closed. "And since you won't even talk about how we're going to hide a dead body _—_ "

"I'm not dying," Derek groaned. "I have a last resort."

Malia frowned. "I don't think I want to know."

"I do! What's your plan? And why don't we just go with that instead? Because I don't know if you've noticed, but you're starting to smell... like _death."_

Derek glared at him. "Start the car. _Now_."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him and shifted in his seat. "I don't think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay? In fact, I think if we wanted to, we could probably drag your little werewolf ass through these woods and leave you for dead."

"Start the car or I'm gonna rip your throat out… with my _teeth_."

Malia rolled her eyes. "We need to go. My dad's going to start wondering what we're doing."

"Fine. But for the record..." Stiles shoved his keys into the ignition. "I'm starting the car because of _that,_ not because I'm afraid of his... _teeth_."

Derek slumped down into his seat. They hadn't even fully pulled out of the driveway before he'd passed out again. The more he slept, the more worried she was he wouldn't wake up.

Stiles drummed his hands against the steering wheel. "Where are we going?"

Malia chewed her lip. "It has to be safe, quiet, no chance of anyone getting in..." An idea formed. "The clinic."

"What?"

"Deaton should be gone by now. It's sterile and nobody will drop by after hours." She nodded. "We'll go to the clinic, drop Derek off, then you can bring me to Allison's early."

Stiles frowned at her through the rear-view mirror. "How do we get in?"

"There's a spare key behind the dumpster. Scott told me about it."

"What?" He pulled a face, offended. "Why didn't I hear about this?"

"I don't know." She shook her head. "Does it matter?"

A slow smile started edging up Stiles' mouth. "Do you realize how ironic it is that we're bringing a sick werewolf to the vet's?"

Exasperated, she sighed. "Just _drive_."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

 _"How much longer are you gonna stay in bed? It's been a_ week!" _Vale used her feet to spin the chair she was in around and around, her head tipped back as she stared at the ceiling. "Lucas is the only one that'll play basketball with me and I don't know if you noticed, but he's not much competition."_

 _"Sorry my near-death experience is interrupting your basketball practice." Derek leaned into the pillows stacked against his headboard, a book open in his lap. "Mom says I should rest at least one more day. If I'm up to it, I'll play with you tomorrow."_

 _"You mean you'll_ lose _to me." Vale stopped her chair with her foot hooked on the edge of his bed and grinned at him. "So, how are you really feeling?"_

 _"Like crap."_

 _"Dad says it's an honor." She rolled her eyes. "That you lived, I mean. Not that you were dumb enough to sniff some weird tube you found just lying around."_

 _He sighed. "It was inside a box and I didn't think we'd keep something that could kill us."_

 _"We're not the only werewolves around." She snorted. "But seriously, dad says it's a miracle you lived. I'm pretty sure he was already digging a hole out back."_

 _Derek scowled. "No, he wasn't."_

 _She grinned, satisfied that she'd annoyed him. "No, but he was probably thinking of where to put you. Maybe under that tree you like."_

 _"We're surrounded by trees. We live in the middle of a forest."_

 _"Yeah, but you have a favorite one," she said in a 'duh' fashion. "I know because it's great for climbing. Cora hangs off it like a monkey all the time."_

 _"Not a bad place to bury me, I guess."_

 _"Well, now we don't have to worry about it." She slumped down in her chair and rolled a foam ball between her hands. "I'm glad you didn't."_

 _"Didn't what?"_

 _"Kick the bucket."_

 _Derek's lips twitched. "Poetic."_

 _"Whatever," she muttered. "I just need you for basketball practice."_

 _"Uh-huh."_

 _"Cora's too small, Lucas sucks, and Adrienne and Gabriela always team up—" She crewed her mouth up irritably. "—which isn't fair."_

 _"What about Laura?"_

 _She sighed. "On the off chance she isn't at college, she's too..."_

 _"Competitive?"_

 _Vale shook her head. "_ Strong _."_

 _Derek's brows arched. "Are you saying I'm weak?"_

 _"Weaker than Laura, yeah." Vale shrugged. "Nothing to be ashamed about."_

 _With a snort, he said, "I'm not."_

 _Her gaze cut toward him curiously. "Weaker than her or ashamed?"_

 _"Ashamed." He stared at her knowingly. "Most of the women in this family are stronger than me. You will be, too. If you ever hit that growth spurt anyway."_

 _Vale scowled. "I'm_ not _short!"_

 _"Sure, you aren't."_

 _With a sigh, she threw the foam basketball at him. When it smacked him directly in the face, she laughed. "And the crowd goes_ wild _!" She mimicked a cheering crowd and threw her hands up. "Vale Hale, MVP of the family."_

 _Shaking his head, Derek tossed the ball from hand to hand. "Keep it up and Lucas will be your permanent basketball partner."_

 _"Hey!" She frowned at him. "Don't joke about things like that."_

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Once Derek was settled on a steel bed in the operating room of the vet clinic, Stiles and Malia darted right back out, jumping into the jeep and making their way to the Argent house.

"So, what are you gonna do?" Stiles looked from the road to her nervously. "How are you gonna find this bullet?"

Malia scrubbed a hand over her forehead and sighed. "I don't know. I'll find out what Scott's done so far and pick up from there. Maybe he can keep them distracted while I snoop."

"That's your plan? Have the _werewolf_ distract the hunters?"

"They don't _know_ he's a werewolf." She paused. "But they do know he's dating Allison…"

Stiles' brow furrowed. "So?"

"Maybe, while they're interrogating him about his intentions, I can sneak around under their radar."

"So, you're just gonna throw him under the bus?"

"He heals, he'll be fine." Pulling an elastic off her wrist, she dragged her hair up into a ponytail and frowned to herself. "I don't like this. It feels weird."

"What, snooping around someone's house?"

"No. Being around Allison's dad. I feel... I don't know. Nervous isn't the right word. But even before I knew he was a hunter, it was like something about him was just _off._ I have to do this, I know that, but..." She shook her head. "It's weird, it's like my instincts are telling me not to."

"Maybe it's ingrained in him. Hunters kill, right? So, it's not so far-fetched that you get the vibe you should avoid a killer."

"Yeah." She pursed her lips. "It's fine. I'll survive."

Stiles pulled his jeep to a stop in front of the Argent house just as a silver SUV was pulling into the driveway. "Text me. If you think they've figured something out or they're onto you then grab Scott and get the hell out of there. Screw Derek, all right? Making sure you and Scott live through this is what matters."

Malia nodded faintly and stared out the windshield at a tall, blonde woman, athletic in build and effortlessly beautiful. She moved around to the back of the truck to raise the trunk, laughing at something Malia couldn't hear.

"Is that her?"

Malia nodded. Allison had shown her a picture of Kate before. The two of them with their heads together, smiling warmly. Picturesque if she hadn't known the background on the Argent family.

"I'll text you when I find something." She hooked her hand on the door handle. "Go back to the clinic, keep an eye on Derek."

Stiles scowled, but nodded.

Hopping out of the jeep, Malia made her way up the drive, wiping suddenly sweaty palms on her jeans. Licking dry lips, she called out, "You need some help?"

Chris Argent looked up first, a half-smile upturning one side of his mouth. "Malia," he greeted. "You're a little early."

"Looks like she's right on time to help bring these groceries in." Kate stepped back from the end of the truck and grinned. "You're Allison's friend, right? I'm her aunt, Kate. I've heard a lot about you."

Malia nodded. "Yeah, same. She's been talking about you non-stop for two days."

"Two days? That's all I get." She laughed lightly. "I would've figured at _least_ a week."

"She only found out you were coming in on Monday, cut her some slack." Chris raised a bag then. "I need to drop this off in the garage. You mind helping out, Malia?"

"Sure. Free food is worth a little manual labour." She walked to the truck and reached inside for a few bags.

Kate joined her, grabbing up a couple of her own. "What is in the water around here? Between you and Allison, I think I'm having an early mid-life crisis."

Malia glanced at her. "Pretty sure you don't have anything to worry about."

Kate smirked.

They made their way inside then. Malia followed Kate down the hall to the kitchen, casting her eyes around as she did. Every time she visited she was struck by how large the house was, especially in comparison to her own. She put the bags down on the counter and watched as Kate unloaded a few things, putting them away. Malia followed suit, unbagging what was closest to her. Since she wasn't familiar with where everything went, she left it on the counter and lingered awkardly.

Kate glanced at her. "So, you and Allison are close then?"

"Yeah." Malia shrugged. "We lucked out. We're into a lot of the same things."

"Is that right?" Kate moved around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards and the fridge. "Well, I'm glad. It's good for her. She needs more friends."

Chris appeared in the kitchen then, dropping off a few more bags before making his way to the front. He looked grumpier than he had when Malia had first arrived and a pit of uncertainty welled in her stomach. Kate chased after him, ducking her head to talk to him. Malia couldn't hear, but whatever he said made Kate laugh and him only look more irritated.

Malia followed after them, only to find Allison was standing outside, too. Along with Scott, who was carrying the last bag of groceries up the walkway.

Chris was quick to reach out and take it from him.

Scott looked past him, brows hiked as he spotted her. "Lia, _hey_. When'd you get here?"

"Not long ago." She stared at him meaningfully, wishing there was a way to ask him what, if anything, he'd found. But they were standing in front of a shortlist of everyone they _couldn't_ talk freely in front of.

Allison spun around, grinning as she looked from Malia to her aunt. "You guys met?"

"Briefly. I'm glad she's sticking around for dinner. I can interrogate her a little more." Kate winked as she walked past them, making her way to the truck to close the trunk.

Scott frowned, turning a worried look on Malia.

She shook her head.

Scott dragged his attention over to Allison, shifting side to side on his feet. "So, studying?"

"Now that Malia's here, I think she can take over," Chris said, his voice stern.

Scott stared at him a beat and then smiled awkwardly at Allison. "Um...Guess I'll see you later then?"

Chris answered, "At school."

Allison rolled her eyes, looking irritated.

As Scott lingered, looking at Malia nervously, Chris motioned. "You, on your bike. You two _—_ " He pointed to Allison and Malia. " _—_ inside."

"Oh, come on, Chris. Really? They were making out in the garage, not shooting amateur porn." Kate grinned. She hooked a hand over Scott's shoulder and squeezed. "You, with the adorable brown eyes. Drop your bike, you're staying for dinner."

Allison's brows hiked in surprise and she turned to look at Malia. So did Scott, who somehow managed to look both relieved and disappointed.

Kate had made up her mind and wouldn't be told otherwise. She walked right past everyone and into the house, leaving the remaining four to stand outside in awkward silence.

Allison looked around and then hurried after her aunt, tugging at Malia's wrist as she went.

Malia let herself be towed inside and wondered if it was better or worse to have Scott there with her.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Derek was twisting and turning on the surgical bed, his skin unnaturally pallid and drenched in sweat. He turned glazed, red-rimmed eyes on Stiles, who was keeping close to the wall. "Malia," Derek grunted. "Where's Malia?"

"I dropped her off at the Argents. She's doing your dirty work and looking for that magical bullet."

Derek squeezed his eyes shot and breathed heavily through his nose. "Hurry."

"She's doing what she can, all right?" He tossed a hand up. "Why'd you wait so long to come to us anyway?"

Derek growled, his eyes flashing blue as he sneered in Stiles' general direction. "I was hiding... If they found me, they'd kill me."

"Looks like the bullet's already doing that." Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and slowly walked toward him. "I don't know what you said or did to make Malia trust you, but for the record, I don't."

Squirming, Derek turned his head forward and stared drowsily at the ceiling. "She's smart... Trusts her instincts... Even if she doesn't know..." He relaxed against the bed.

"Know what?" Stiles frowned. "Hey, what doesn't she know?"

But Derek had passed out again.

Scoffing, Stiles walked back to the wall and dug his phone out, sending both Scott and Malia a text _—_ ' _eta?'_

Neither replied.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

 _"You wake him up."_

 _"No, you."_

 _"This was your idea."_

 _"Yeah, but I don't want him to get mad at me."_

 _"Coward." A finger poked Derek's cheek. "Hey, are you dead or what?"_

 _Derek opened his eyes slowly and glared at the 'poker,' which happened to be a grinning and unapologetic Cora. "No."_

 _"Good! Then you can make waffles."_

 _He frowned. "Says who?"_

 _"Me!" She bounced on the bed next to him. "Dad said you're mostly healed."_

 _"Mostly isn't all." Derek dragged a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"_

 _Lucas grimaced. "Early."_

 _"Is anybody else up?"_

 _"Just Ben. He went for a run." Lucas shrugged. "Everyone else is asleep."_

 _With a sigh, Derek gathered his strength and sat up. Technically, he was no longer at risk of dying, but his body still felt sluggish._

 _"Yes!" Cora cried cheerfully, hopping off the bed and hurrying toward the door. The pads of her feet slapped loudly against the wood floors._

 _"She woke me up, too. I don't know why. She's just in a good mood." Lucas lingered next to him. "Are you okay? You can walk?"_

 _"Yeah. Just tired." Still, Derek banded an arm around his ribs as he walked to the door. "It's not as bad as it was."_

 _"Did you ever find out what it was? The stuff in the vial."_

 _"Peter said it was some kind of toxin. He read somewhere that the reaction time might be slower if I wasn't awake, so he knocked me out. That's what he says, anyway." He held onto the banister as he made his way down a flight of stairs, his body still far weaker than he'd ever felt before. "Vale thinks he had it to take out other werewolves, since it only affects our kind."_

 _"Maybe." Lucas' brow furrowed as he followed him down. "Was it really bad? I mean, do you think you were close to dying?"_

 _"Felt like I was."_

 _He hummed._

 _"But I'm okay now." Derek looked back at him and half-smiled. "I'm not going anywhere."_

 _"Yeah, sure." But Lucas didn't look so convinced._

 _Reaching out, Derek ruffled Lucas's hair, which he knew Lucas hated, but that was why he did it. "Were you worried about me?"_

 _"What?_ No _." Lucas combed his hair back into place with his fingers. "Mom was pretty shook up, though. And dad pretended he wasn't, but I could tell."_

 _"Yeah?"_

 _"Duh." Lucas kept an eye on him as he maneuvered down the last set of stairs to the main floor. "I heard dad talking to Ben. He said he was gonna kill Uncle Peter if you died."_

 _"It's not Peter's fault." Even if he had blamed Peter when it was first happening. "I was stupid, I shouldn't have been snooping around."_

 _"You know dad and Peter don't get along." He shrugged. "It's pretty mutual, actually."_

 _"That's because dad thinks Peter wants to be alpha."_

 _"Doesn't he?"_

 _"No." Derek shook his head. "He'd never do anything to mom. He loves her."_

 _Lucas hummed, his brow furrowed. "Power does weird things to people. I hope I'm never an alpha."_

 _"You planning on running away from the pack you already have? 'Cause the only way you become alpha is if we die or you kill some other pack's alpha."_

 _"Yeah, I know. I just meant... I don't know. Some people can handle power, right? Like mom and Laura. But other people, they're just not built for it."_

 _"And you think that's Peter?"_

 _"Don't you?"_

 _Derek frowned to himself thoughtfully. Peter was reckless. An alpha needed to be steady, to think of the pack before themselves. He wasn't sure Peter could do that. "Yeah, maybe."_

 _"Hey!" Cora skidded out of the kitchen, hands on her hips and tapping her foot. "Are we having waffles or what?"_

 _Derek grinned. "We are. Did you get everything out?"_

 _She grinned up at him toothily. "I even turned on the waffle maker!"_

 _Derek ruffled her hair as he passed her. "Come on. You can help me make the batter."_

 _For the moment, Derek put what Lucas had said aside. As much as he didn't think Peter was meant to be an alpha, he didn't see any reason to worry about it. Talia would remain the Hale alpha for a long while yet. And when Laura was ready to take on the mantle, she would lead the family just as well. So, both his dad's and Lucas' fears were for nothing._

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia flopped down on the end of Allison's bed and leaned back, resting on her elbows. "Is it just me or does your dad kind of hate Scott?"

Allison's eyes widened. "He doesn't _hate_ him." She turned a look on Scott. "He doesn't hate you."

Scott lingered next to Allison's dresser, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt.

"He's just protective," Allison insisted.

"Uh-huh." Malia half-grinned at Scott. "You remember the first time you met my dad?"

Scott's mouth inched up at the corner. "He was holding a gun."

"Seriously?" Allison looked between them, her eyes wide. "But weren't you like, ten?"

"He wasn't trying to intimidate me." Scott turned to face them, his expression warm and fond. "It was a pellet gun and he was trying to scare the raccoons away from the garbage cans. Me and Stiles didn't know that though. We were in the middle of nowhere, about to knock on the door, when it swung open and then there's this big guy with crazy eyes and a gun. I thought he was gonna kill us."

"What happened?"

"Stiles ran." Malia rolled her eyes. "I don't think he's ever moved that fast in his life."

"And you?" Allison wondered, looking at Scott.

"I think I fainted."

"Scott panicked. And because his lungs were so bad, he wasn't getting enough air and literally passed right out." Malia grinned and shook her head. "We put him on the couch to sleep it off."

"When I woke up, Stiles was sitting on the back of the couch, watching TV and eating cereal. Mr. Tate apologized a few times, explained what happened. Most intense first meeting of my _life_."

"My dad literally ran you over," Allison reminded.

"Oh." His brow furrowed. "Yeah, that's true... I don't have very good luck with dads, I guess."

Malia shrugged. "Sheriff Stilinski likes you."

Scott half-smiled. "Only when me and Stiles stay out of trouble."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure he thinks you're a good influence that Stiles is slowly corrupting."

Allison took a seat in a chair and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "You guys are so lucky."

Malia's gaze moved to hers. "Why?"

"You have each other. And Stiles." She shook her head. "I feel like I've always been looking for that, you know? The kind of friendship that really sticks with you."

"Malia didn't like me when we first met," Scott told her. He circled around to take a seat on the edge of the bed and looked back at Malia, who frowned. "It's true."

"I didn't _dislike_ you. I just... thought you were too nice."

He laughed under his breath. "And I was scared you were going to steal Stiles away from me."

"I thought you'd hate me and Stiles would pick you."

Scott grinned. "He's a lot smarter than we give him credit for. He knew we'd become friends, eventually."

"How did you?" Allison wondered, drawing their attention. "I mean, if you didn't like each other at first."

"I liked her," Scott said. "I could just tell she didn't like me as much."

"I was _cautious_ ," Malia corrected, staring up at profile.

Scott rolled his eyes. "You called me bucket head for a full week."

"You had that awful haircut back then."

He snorted. "I made mom take me in to get it cut. You gave me a complex."

Malia shrugged, unrepentant. "I did you a favor."

Scott chuckled.

"Anyway." Malia looked at Allison. "What happened was we were all supposed to go to this movie—"

"Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," Scott interrupted. "Malia was _obsessed_ with the book."

"It was a good book!"

He shook his head. "So, we were all gonna go together, but then Stiles caught the flu and couldn't go."

"Right." Malia nodded. "And since Stiles was pretty much the only reason we interacted, I didn't think we'd go without him."

"It was the last week it was going to play at the theatre and I knew how much she loved the book, so I asked my mom to drive me out to her house to pick her up." He shrugged, tapping his fingers against his knee. "I wasn't sure she'd go for it. I actually thought she'd shut the door in my face."

"I thought about." Malia bit her lip. "But I really wanted to see that movie."

"So, we went. She didn't say a word to me. We got tickets, went to the concession, and nothing. But after the movie was over, she just looked at me and said—"

Malia smothered a smile. " _'What'd you think?_ '"

"And I said it was funny."

Malia snorted. "And then he couldn't get me to shut up."

"You were excited." Scott nodded. "She told me everything she loved and hated and what was different in the book."

"We hung out at this ice cream shop across the street for like two hours talking about it. He asked to borrow the book after and when his mom brought me home, I ran inside and grabbed it for him."

"She made me promise not to lose it or damage it or anything." He crossed his fingers over his heart absently. "After that, we were friends."

"I got him his own copy for his birthday the next year."

"I still have it."

" _Wow_." Allison's voice jarred them, as if her being there had escaped them both.

Malia felt a sudden flood of discomfort. Had she said too much? Reacted too fondly? She sat up and shrugged. "We lucked out. I met Stiles and things just... worked out, I guess."

Allison nodded. "I wish I had that."

"I don't know, running over my dog and still befriending me after is a much crazier story."

She laughed, her smile wide. "True."

Malia stood from the bed then and said, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom. Down the hall to the left, right?"

Allison nodded. "Mm-hmm."

Leaving the room, Malia made her way to the bathroom, digging her phone out to text Stiles— _'how is he?_ '

It wasn't long before a barrage of texts blew up her phone.

—' _not good.'_

— _'like really not good.'_

— _'he keeps passing out and mumbling in his sleep.'_

— _'he just said something about waffles!_

— _'maybe the infection's reached his brain_ '

Malia sighed. —' _scott's been invited to dinner. two heads are better than one, right?'_

— _'hurry up, I'm not sure how much time he's got'_ he replied, quickly followed by— _'don't forget,_ _the longer you're in there, the more time they have to figure things out'_

A knock echoed against the door then and Malia reached for it. She frowned, surprised to see Scott on the other end. He glanced in both directions before ducking into the bathroom with her and closing the door at his back.

"They have a mini-armory in their garage," he told her. "All their guns and bullets are locked away. How are we supposed to look in there?"

"Maybe we won't have to." She pointed downward. "Kate shot him, right? Maybe she keeps the bullets closer than we think. The spare room is downstairs, off a hallway by the kitchen. If we can dig around in her stuff, we might find what we're looking for. "

"What if we can't?" His shoulders slumped. "Stiles keeps texting me that Derek is looking worse."

"Derek said he had a back-up plan if worse comes to worst, but honestly, I don't think we'll like it. One of us needs to go through Kate's things and see what they find."

"How? _When?_ Allison is expecting us back in her room any second."

"Where does she think you are right now?"

He shrugged. "Getting something to drink."

"Okay, well, we can't do it now because at least on person is going to be in the kitchen cooking. But, at dinner, they'll all be at the table. So, one of us just needs to go to the bathroom and take a look around. That way, if anyone leaves the table, the other can text and warn them."

He nodded. "Okay. Yeah, that could work."

"Great. Now, get out, I actually have to pee." She shuffled him through the door. "And go get a drink or it'll look suspicious."

* * *

 **...**

* * *

The light hanging above Derek's head seared his eyes. He turned away to avoid it, but his vision blurred. He could make out the vague shape of Stiles, standing against the wall, tapping at the screen of his phone. Aside from the animals in the back, Stiles was the only one in the clinic. Of the three of them, he would've preferred Malia. Stiles was fidgety, more sarcasm than strength. Scott was reluctant and rebellious, but strong. Malia though, she trusted him. She didn't want to, but he could tell she did. And despite himself, he trusted her, too. Logically, he knew having her at the clinic would be a comfort more than anything and that having her search for the bullet was a better idea. At least he could trust that she would stay focused on the end goal.

Exhaustion swamped him in waves. Memories of a time when he was young, when he had a family, were bittersweet. Even on his worst day, his siblings had been there to snark and joke and poke at him. It had annoyed him as a teenager. So many people and personalities and so little space. But he missed it now. Missed the crowd of voices echoing through the house, their padding feet, their questions and demands and expectations. The guilt of their deaths felt like a noose around his neck that never loosened. He wasn't sure how he would feel if it ever did. He deserved it.

Closing his eyes, he tried to breathe as a wave of pain spread up his arm. He was running out of time. If they didn't find the bullet soon, he would have to go to extreme lengths to survive this. After all, he was a Hale.

They didn't run. They fought. And they continued.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

 _Derek sat in his car, parked outside of Columbia University, his hand squeezed tight around the steering wheel. "You can't be serious."_

 _"Of course I'm serious." Laura sighed. "Something is going on and I need to find out what."_

 _Derek shook his head. "We left Beacon Hills for a reason."_

 _"Six_ years _ago… A lot has changed. Whoever burned our house down is long gone."_

 _"You don't know that." He ground his teeth together. "This isn't our problem. Beacon Hills isn't our home anymore."_

 _"It's always going to be home," she said, her voice gentle in a way that reminded him far too much of their mother. "Look, I'm not telling you to leave New York. You have a life there and you're almost done your history degree. You know I'm proud of you. But, I have to do this."_

 _"Why?"_

 _"Because... Mom would want me to. This thing, whatever it is, is dangerous. I can_ feel _it. I can't let the town suffer because I'm afraid of a few ghosts."_

 _Closing his eyes, Derek took a moment. Worry made his stomach curdle. "If it really is dangerous, then you shouldn't be out there. Not alone."_

 _"I'm the alpha, remember?" Her voice turned wry and stubborn. "This was our territory. We protected Beacon Hills, whether the town knew it or not. They won't know how to deal with it."_

 _"Do you?"_

 _"I'm figuring it out. I know it's a wolf and I know it's hunting. I just don't know what or why... But I will."_

 _"Laur..." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know you want to do the right thing_ — _"_

 _"I'm just trying to be who our mother taught us to be. We protect, Derek, we don't run away. Not even when we_ really _want to."_

 _He stared at the dash of his car and shook his head. He could still hear the echo of his father's voice telling him that cowardice was just a way station, a slow march toward the death of one's integrity. He might as well lay down and let the worms have him._

 _"Look, the full moon is next week," Laura said. "It seems to be sticking to that schedule. I'll call you when I find anything out. I promise."_

 _"Yeah." He nodded, his skin feeling too tight, a sure sign that he was doing the wrong thing. "Just... be safe."_

 _"Is that genuine concern I'm hearing? What have you done with my grumpy little brother, huh?"_

 _He rolled his eyes. "Call me. Every day. And if something happens or you don't think you can do it alone... I'll come down. All right?"_

 _"All right. I will." Her voice was lighter then as she said, "Now get to class. You're not going to become a professor sitting in the parking lot."_

 _He snorted. "Yeah, yeah."_

* * *

 ** _…_**

* * *

Malia picked at her food—pan fried chicken, green beans, and rice. Better than anything she could've made for herself, that was for sure. Sitting directly across from her, Scott was looking squeamish as he sipped at his water.

"Would you like something else to drink besides water, Scott? Malia?" Victoria offered, looking between them.

"Oh, n-no, I'm good, thanks." He half-smiled and replaced his glass on the table.

"I'm fine," Malia agreed.

"Get you a beer?" Chris offered, raising his eyebrows as he stared at Scott.

Allison paused, her brow furrowed.

"N-no, thanks," Scott sputtered.

Chris waved his cutlery. "Shot of tequila?"

" _Dad_." Allison glared. "Really?"

Chris ignored her in favor of needling Scott a little more. "You don't drink, Scott?"

He laughed under his breath. "I'm not old enough to."

Victoria hummed. "That doesn't seem to stop many teenagers."

"Did you guys drink when you were our age?" Malia looked from Victoria to Chris. "That had to be, what, the 80's when you guys were teenagers...? Big hair, bigger cocaine problem."

Chris stared at her, surprised.

Kate laughed. "Oh, wow. She called you out, big brother."

"Speaking of drugs..." Chris waved his butter knife in Scott's direction. "Do you smoke pot?"

"Okay." Kate laughed. "Changing the channel to something a little less conservative..." Kate turned her attention on Scott. "From what Allison tells me, you're on the lacrosse team."

"Yeah. Uh, I just made first line this year."

Kate nodded. "Turns out I don't know anything about that. How do you play?"

"Um, well, you know hockey? It's a lot like that, only, um, played on grass instead of ice."

"Hockey on grass… is called field hockey," Chris corrected bluntly.

"Oh..." Scott's face fell. "Yeah."

Malia cleared her throat. "I know Allison was really into gymnastics and archery growing up, does she get that from one of you?" She looked from Victoria to Kate to Chris. "Or is she just one of those annoyingly talented people born with an unnatural ability to master high intensity sports?"

Chris and Kate glanced at each other.

"Target practice is my bread and butter," Kate said. "Maybe she got it from me."

"Do you still do it?"

"I try to, sure." Kate cocked her head, half-smiling. "What about you, Malia? What do you do?"

"Malia's in track," Scott said, sounding close to boastful. "She's the fastest one on the team."

"Is that right?"

Malia shrugged. "I like running. It's a good way to shut your head off."

"She was in gymnastics, too." Allison nodded. "We've been trying to pick it back up together."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you might have an unnatural ability yourself."

"Just not for skating." Malia speared a green bean with her fork and twirled it. "I'm terrible at it."

Allison snorted. "Hardly. You got the hang of it, eventually."

Scott grinned. "Malia's always been like that. She adapts to everything."

Kate looked from Scott to Malia. "You two are close?"

Malia nodded. "Yeah, best friends since we were ten."

"Really? How'd you two meet?"

"A mutual friend— Stiles." Malia smiled across the table. "It's all history after that."

"Have you ever dated?" Kate wondered bluntly.

Scott choked on his water and knocked a fist against his chest to try and catch his breath.

"Kate!" Allison protested.

"What? It's an honest question." Kate looked more amused than anything. "You know the old saying, boys and girls can't just be friends."

Malia hummed. "Which is outdated, misogynistic, and heteronormative."

"Heteronormative... big word. Is that your way of saying you like girls?"

Malia imagined Kate was the type of person that brought up topics specifically to get people to squirm. She enjoyed being unexpected and reveled in the discomfort of her audience. But Malia wasn't a fan of squirming. "I think sexuality is fluid. I've never had romantic feelings for girls, but I don't know. That might not always be true."

Victoria cleared her throat. "I'm not sure this is proper conversation for dinner."

Kate raised an eyebrow, keeping her gaze centered on Malia. "I don't know, I find it fascinating."

Malia refused to blink. "To answer your question though, no. Scott and I have never dated. Neither have me and Stiles or Scott and Stiles. We're friends."

"Have you ever wanted to?"

Malia pulled a face. "Stiles is like my brother."

"And Scott?"

She glanced at him over the table, staring back at her. His face was flushed from coughing and his brow was furrowed tightly.

Just as she opened her mouth to lie, because obviously she wasn't going to start sharing personal truths with these people, especially in front of Scott and his girlfriend—

"The sticks have nets!" Scott blurted out, drawing Kate's attention to him.

"What?"

"Uh, the sticks, in lacrosse, they have nets. That's what makes it different from field hockey."

Kate stared at him a beat, seeming to hesitate in allowing him to change the subject. Eventually, she asked, "Can you slap-check like in hockey?"

"Um, yeah."

Malia felt her phone buzz in her pocket just as Scott's dinged with a text.

Digging his out, he dropped his gaze to it, hidden under the table, saying distractedly, "But it's only the, uh, the gloves and the sticks."

"Sounds violent," Kate praised. "I like it."

"Scott's amazing, too." Allison turned to Chris. "Dad came with me to the first game. Wasn't he good?"

"He was fine."

Allison's eyes narrowed. "He scored the last shot, the _winning_ shot."

"True, but he didn't score at all until the last few minutes."

Malia clenched her teeth. "From where I was sitting, it was a little hard for Scott to score any earlier in the game since Jackson was clearly telling the rest of the team not to pass to him."

Chris turned to look at her, his brow furrowed. "I didn't notice anything like that."

"You were there, too?" Kate asked. "Big lacrosse fan?"

"No, not really. But since two of my friends play, I watch sometimes. I sat with Scott's mom. She was pretty proud of his winning shot, too."

"And what about your mom? Was she there?"

Malia went still, her heart beating a little too quick for comfort. Her throat tightened and her tongue felt weighed down.

Allison's eyes widened and her hand flexed against her fork. "Um, dinner's really good tonight. Who cooked?"

"Your father." Victoria smoothed her napkin out in her lap. "It sounds like these lacrosse games are a real family event. Maybe if I come to the next game I'll get a chance to meet your parents. What do yours do, Malia?"

She swallowed tightly and untangled her tongue. "My dad is a factory foreman in Fontana. He commutes back and forth."

"And your mother?"

"Is dead."

The table went quiet— cutlery stopped moving and Victoria very slowly turned to look at her. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Discomfort filled her up from the toes. "It was a long time ago."

"Can I ask how it happened?"

"No." The response, surprisingly, did not come from Malia, but rather Scott. And his tone was sharp.

Malia shifted in her seat, glancing at him over the table. "It's fine."

"It's not." A muscle ticked in his cheek. "No offense," he told the Argents, "but that's really personal."

"He's right," Kate agreed. "We shouldn't be digging up your family trauma."

"You should come, mom. To the game, I mean," Allison said, trying to change the subject back to lighter topics. "It was a lot more action packed than I thought. Scott's last shot actually ripped a hole through the goalie's net. It was pretty incredible."

Chris cleared his throat. "Well, I think the goalie was probably playing with a defective stick, so—"

Malia rolled her eyes.

Kate noticed. "You disagree, Malia?"

"Scott practiced all summer and winter break to make it onto first line. They don't hand those spots out unless you prove yourself. He has." She shrugged. "I just like giving credit where it's due."

Malia felt a nudge against her foot; she knew it was Scott trying to comfort or reassure or maybe just to remind her not to lash out too much. They were supposed to be guests after all, constantly snapping at Chris wouldn't help. She bit the inside of her cheek and focused on her food once more. Her appetite, however, was lost.

"On second thought..." Scott said. "Um, I think I'll that shot of Tequila."

Chris raised his head to stare at him.

Kate choked out a laugh that she tried to hide in her hand.

The rest of the table followed, effectively breaking any leftover tension.

Even Chris smiled, picking up his glass of wine and pointing at Scott as he said, "You were kidding, right?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah."

* * *

 **...**

* * *

At the tail end of dinner, time had nearly run out. Malia looked up at Scott, her brows hiked. He gave a small nod and then cleared his throat. "Uh, can I be excused? I need to use the bathroom."

Victoria nodded, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin. "Sure, our main floor bathroom is under construction. There's one upstairs—"

"It's fine, he can use the one in the spare bedroom. It's closer." Kate motioned with her chin. "It's down the hall from the kitchen. You want me to show you?"

"No, it's fine. I can find it." He glanced at Malia and then stood from the table.

Malia dug her phone out of her pocket, ready to warn him. She noticed Kate's gaze was still following Scott, her lips curled in a faint smirk, and felt a wave of unease fill her stomach.

"So, Malia..." Kate turned sharp eyes on her. "What do you do for fun around here? When I was younger, Beacon Hills wasn't exactly a hotspot for fun."

"You mean when I'm not attending drug fueled raves or ritualistic sacrifices?" She shrugged. "I knit."

A full grin formed on Kate's mouth. "You were right, honey." She looked at Allison. "I like her."

Allison beamed. "I knew you would." She turned a fond look on Malia. "Did I tell you how we became friends? It's kind of a crazy story..."

"And not a cheap one, either," Chris added.

Kate raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"I'd seen Malia at school, in passing. We have an English class together, but we'd never talked. And I was driving through town— it was late and raining like crazy. I took my eyes off the road for a second to change the song on my iPod and—"

"Ran my dog over," Malia finished.

" _No_." Kate's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Broke her leg, actually."

"And you still wanted to be friends with her?" Kate motioned to Allison. "No offense, you know I love you, but not everybody would get over something like that."

Malia shrugged. "It was fine. She drove me and Shiloh to the vet clinic."

Allison nodded, smiling. "The same one Scott works at, actually."

"Yeah. He put a stint on Shiloh and a few apologies later and me and Allison are friends."

Allison scrunched her nose up. "I felt so bad. I really thought she'd hate me, but she didn't."

Malia shrugged. "You didn't do it on purpose and Shiloh's going to be fine."

"So, when Scott's not kicking ass at lacrosse, he's saving injured animals?" Kate nodded slowly. "Sounds like you find a keeper."

Half-smiling, Allison reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears. "Scott's great."

Speaking of Scott, he appeared back at the table then, staring at Malia before he tapped his jean pocket tellingly.

Relieved, she tucked her phone away once more.

"Uh, I don't mean to eat and run, but..." Scott nodded. "I should really get going. Um, thanks for dinner."

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no." Kate rested an elbow on the table and rubbed her thumb along her chin, staring at Scott expectantly. "You have to stay for dessert. I wanna know more about you. Sit down."

Scott hesitated for a moment before eventually muttering, "Okay," and retaking his seat.

Victoria shifted in her seat to face him better. "Allison and Malia were just telling us that you work for a veterinarian."

"We told them how we met and that you put a cast on Shiloh," Allison explained.

"Yeah." A ping sounded and Malia felt a buzz against her hip. Scott looked down, pulling his phone out to read whatever Stiles had texted.

"What does your boss think of the animal attacks?" Chris asked, causing Scott to look up abruptly. "Any theories?"

"Uh, everyone was just saying it was a mountain lion…"

Kate let out a scoffing laugh. "It'd have to be a pretty large mountain lion."

Chris rolled the stem of his wine glass between his fingers and turned to look at Malia. "Your dad hunts, doesn't he, Malia? Has he seen any mountain lions that could be to blame?"

Malia paused. A tremble of warning ran down her back. Malia raised her chin as she said, "The animals in the preserve are smart; they tend to avoid people."

He nodded. "Even better reason for them not to be attacking townspeople."

Victoria smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it. "What do you think, Scott?"

"I don't know. We usually get cats and dogs at the vet. Nothing that vicious."

"Never had to deal with a rabid dog?" Chris wondered.

Scott shook his head.

"Oh. I grew up with a lot of dogs."

Kate pursed her lips, casting her eyes upward, and took a long drag of her wine.

"I saw one get rabies from a _bat_. It was transferred through the bite. You know, people think that a rabid dog just suddenly goes mad. It's a lot more gradual..." Chris turned his entire attention on Scott, his voice deep and rocky. "First stage is subtle changes in behaviour— they're restless, morose. It's the second stage that people know—the furious phase. That's when they attack. And we're talking any moving object."

Scott's brow furrowed, coming down heavy over his eyes. Malia could see he was clenching his jaw, his shoulders tensed. She reached her foot out and hooked it behind his ankle, tapping her toes against the back of his calf.

"Did you know that a caged rabid dog will break its own teeth trying to chew through the bars? It'll even rear back and snap its own spine. Can you _imagine_ the amount of force it would take to do that?" Chris' gaze fell thoughtfully to the table. "It's a complete character reversal. This harmless animal— turned into a perfectly vicious killer. And it all started with one bite."

Scott looked down a moment, swallowing tightly, before his gaze rose up and met Malia's across the table.

She couldn't be sure— though a part of her was naturally suspicious— if Chris Argent was purposely saying all of this on the off chance that he believed Scott was a werewolf. Or maybe he was using it as some kind of strange intimidation tactic. Either way, Malia felt motivated to get Scott out of the house. _Immediately._

Allison looked unimpressed by her father's story, her brows raised. "But it died, didn't it?"

"Yes." Victoria turned a severe look on her daughter. "Because your grandfather _shot_ it."

"Because he wanted to put it out of its misery."

 _Innocent_ , Malia thought. Whatever murderous instinct had infected the rest of the Argents, it hadn't reached Allison. Not yet.

"Because it was too dangerous," Chris corrected. He turned his attention back to Scott. "Something that out of control is better off dead."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

At the clinic, Derek stood next to the surgical table, having stripped off his shirt. Black ropes of infection lined the veins of his arms and blood dripped steadily down his forearm. He panted, swaying a little, as he tried to focus.

Stiles stood on the other side of the table. "You know, that really doesn't look like anything some echinacea and a good night of sleep couldn't take care of."

"When the infected reaches my heart… it'll kill me." Derek stumbled away from the table to start searching through the cupboards and drawers.

"'Positivity' just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles shook his head, mouth folded irritably.

"If they don't get here with the bullets in time—" He pulled open a drawer and reached in side. "—last resort."

Stiles' brows hiked. "Which is?"

Derek pulled a surgical saw out and showed it to him. "You're gonna cut off my arm."

Stiles' mouth fell open and his eyes widened in shock. For once, he was at a loss for words.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Malia and Scott lingered by the front door as Allison dug around in her room for Scott's bag.

Malia took a quick glance around to make sure no one was in hearing range, before she leaned toward him. "Well?"

"I found it." He nodded. "It was in Kate's bag, inside a box that had 'Northern Blue Monkshood' written on it in French."

"Since when do you know French?"

"I don't, I used an app to translate it." He shrugged. "I sent it to Stiles. Derek says I _have_ to bring him the bullet."

"Okay, then we need to get the hell out of here and over to the clinic."

Allison came bouncing down the stairs then, Scott's bag in hand.

They turned to face her, smiling.

Sighing, Allison shook her head. "I'm so incredibly sorry."

He took the bag and pulled in on. "For what?"

She walked to the door and then leaned against it, clasping one hand around the other wrist. "For that being the worst, most horribly awkward dinner ever in the history of horribly awkward dinners."

"No. Uh, it wasn't the worst." Scott shook his head. "There was this one dinner where my parents told me they were getting a divorce. This comes in at a close second."

Malia snorted. "There was also that time your mom invited me and Stiles over for dinner and then started talking about puberty while we were eating, so we had nowhere to run. We just had to sit there and pretend not to hear words like 'pubic hair' and 'wet dreams.'"

Scott shuddered. "Every time I think I've completely erased that day from my mind, you find a way to bring it up."

"If I have to be mentally scarred, so do you." She knocked her shoulder against his and then turned to Allison. "Anyway, your entire family is dramatically intimidating. They should work on that."

Allison laughed lightly. "I'll let them know."

"We're still on for Sunday? Finally get this essay done and out of the way."

Nodding, Allison pushed off the door and stepped aside. "Yep!"

"Great. I'll text you later." Malia pulled the door open then, but when it was halfway open, Kate cut across the foyer toward them.

"Wait a second, guys."

Malia winced and turned back around. Seriously? Could they not wrap this awkward dinner up already?

Allison stared at her aunt, confused. "What is it?"

Kate came to a stop in front of them. "Uhhh... I have to ask Scott something."

He shook his head slowly. "Me?"

"Yeah." She reached past them to push the door closed. " _You_."

Malia felt a leaden weight fill her stomach.

Scott's brow furrowed. "Okay…"

Kate hooked her hands on her hips and smiled sharply. "What'd you take from my bag?"

Allison's brows hiked as she looked from Kate to Scott.

Scott stared, mouth ajar. "What?"

"My bag. What'd you take from it?"

Scott turned to Malia, at a loss for words.

She shook her head faintly.

"Do you need me to repeat the question?" Kate asked, her tone snide now. "Maybe enunciate more clearly?"

Chris joined them then, coming to a stop next to his sister. "What are you talking about?"

"My bag was open in the guest room, and when I left it was _shut_." Kate motioned to Scott. "Scott comes in to use the bathroom, he leaves, my bag's open."

Allison frowned. "This is ridiculous. He didn't take anything."

" _Something_ was taken from my bag. Now look— I hate to be the accuser here, Scott, because I really do love those _adorable_ brown eyes, but I don't know if you're a klepto, if you're curious, or—" She laughed mockingly. "Or if you're just stupid. But answer the question. What did you take?"

"Nothing." Malia stepped forward and in front of Scott, crossing her arms over her chest. "Scott isn't any of those things. Maybe you're just remembering it wrong."

Kate's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"You could've gone back in and opened it at any point and just forgotten." She shrugged. "You don't even know if something _was_ stolen, you just think it was because a zipper is open." Malia felt Scott's hand against her back and wondered if he was going to get the hint she was trying to give him. "Scott?"

He stepped closer to her, his chest brushing her back. "Yeah?"

She locked eyes with Kate. "Tell them you didn't steal anything."

"I— I'm really sorry that you think something's missing, but I didn't take anything."

Malia felt something heavy and narrow slide into the back pocket of her jeans.

A slow smile spread across Kate's face. "If he didn't take anything, he won't mind proving it."

"Are you serious?" Allison demanded.

Kate ignored her. "How about you show us what's in your pockets?"

" _Dad?_ "

Chris gave her a quelling look.

"Come on, Scott," Kate needled. "Prove me wrong."

"Fine." Scott stepped out from behind Malia to stand next to her. He dug his hands into his jean pockets and pulled them out, showing that he had nothing but some lint, a gum wrapper, and some spare change. He showed them his hoodie pockets, too, but there was nothing but his house keys there. "Did you want to look through my bag, too?" He shrugged it off his shoulders and held it out.

Kate looked surprised and turned a frown on her brother, who shrugged back at her.

"Maybe she's right, maybe you just forgot."

Unconvinced, Kate reached for the bag.

" _Kate_ ," Allison said, her voice strained. "I can't believe this. I can't believe _you_."

"Allison, this isn't personal."

"Open it," Malia told her.

Kate's eyes darted to Malia and narrowed.

Malia was unmoved. "You're sure, right? That you didn't go back into your room, didn't dig around in your bag, that the zipper was always done?"

Kate stared at her. "I have a pretty good memory, yeah."

"Then open the bag."

A beat of hesitation passed before Kate did exactly that. She opened the bag, pulling out a sweater, a couple binders, a book, and a pencil case. But nothing suspect, nothing that could pass for Kate's.

"Are you done?" Malia tilted her chin. "Or did you wanna call the Sheriff and have Scott brought in on suspicion of using the guest bathroom?"

Kate let out a laugh. "You might be a little too much like me, kid."

Malia held her hand out for the bag, which Kate relented to her, and passed it back to Scott. "We really should go. Thanks for dinner." Turning on her heel, she pulled the door open and stepped outside. She waited for Scott to step through it first and followed him out.

Allison was hot on their heels.

"Malia..."

Allison's voice was strained and worried.

Malia winced. After all, Scott _had_ stolen from Kate, but Allison didn't know that. She thought her family had just been incredibly rude to her boyfriend and her friend. From Allison's point of view, this had to be incredibly embarrassing.

Schooling her face, Malia turned around to face Allison.

Allison chewed her lip, her cheeks flushed. She looked back and forth from Malia to Scott. "I'm _so_ sorry."

"It's fine." Malia shook her head. "Why don't we hang out at my place on Sunday though?" She cast a look back into the house, where Chris and Kate were talking in hushed whispers.

Allison nodded eagerly. "Yeah, sure, of course."

Malia backed up then, leaving Scott and Allison to say their goodbyes. She made her way to Scott's abandoned bike, laying in the grass, and kept her back to the couple. It wasn't until she heard the door closed that she turned back around.

Scott walked toward her, glancing back over his shoulder. "That was close."

"Yeah. Really close." She could still feel the bullet tucked safely in the back pocket of her jeans. Reaching down, she grabbed his bike up and passed it to him. "Come on. We're running out of time."

Scott walked his bike down the hill to the road. "Hey... Why'd you tell them the animals in the preserve avoided people? Shouldn't we try to convince them it really was a cougar?"

Malia shook her head. "I live near the preserve and my dad hunts. It's not completely crazy that a single cougar lost it and attacked someone, but if I made it sound like it was normal, they'd get suspicious."

Scott nodded slowly. "That makes sense, yeah." He took a seat on his bike then, holding it steady as Malia hopped onto the pegs on his back tire. "Ready?"

She wrapped her hands over his shoulders and squeezed lightly. "Yeah. Let's go save a werewolf."

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _if you haven't noticed, this chapter is incredibly long. it seriously ballooned, and i thought about splitting it up, but i decided against it. if this is too much, please let me know and i'll try to keep chapters under a certain worth length for easier reading. i just really wanted to get through the dinner itself, since i felt like that was where a lot of the intensity was coming from. i hope you liked everything! i wrote a lot more of the hale family than i expected. if you haven't seen it yet, there is a character page on my tumblr ( **sarcasticfina** ) for the hale family. just visit my url and add **/hales** to the end to see it. :) _

_i originally had derek interacting with malia more about his family, but a lot of that was moved to the next chapter, so keep an eye out for that. i know he doesn't originally pass out in the canon, but i'm taking creative license with that, because i feel like it, and it was a good narrative tool to visit his family._

 _i mentioned in the last chapter that allison would get to see more of the malia/scott dynamic and i hope this covers that. it gets revisited again soon, but i thought this was a good vehicle for the argents in general to see how malia and scott interact and protect each other. we get to see a bit of the history between scott and malia when they were kids, told through them, and then we get to see how malia defends scott against chris' obviously targeted focus on belittling scott and his achievements and again when kate was demanding to see what was in scott's pockets._

 _i also changed the whole 'allison stole a condom from kate's bag' scene because, at this point, allison is in a different place with scott. she's talked to malia about the situation and she plans to talk to scott about expectations. but more than that, as a few people have noticed, both scott and allison aren't quite as invested in each other as they were in the show. they do like each other, but they are nowhere near in love with each other._

 **things to look forward to next chapter** _: injured/healing derek; malia and derek banter; a video store; an attack; worried!scott. ;)_

 _thanks so much for reading, please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	14. magic bullet 4 - the tell 1

**word count** : 15,950  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : 1x04 - magic bullet; 1x05 - the tell

* * *

 **XIV**

Malia's legs were noticeably wobbly when Scott pulled his bike to a stop in the back alley of the clinic. Wincing, she hopped down to level ground. "I never thought I'd say this, but apparently, you _can_ ride your bike too fast, and you _did_. I think I ate the entire cast of A Bug's Life on the ride here.

Scott winced. "Sorry." He hid his bike behind a dumpster and dug his keys out. "Are you okay?'

"Yeah." She stretched her legs out and gave each a shake. "I feel like I was on a roller coaster, but it'll pass... Probably."

Scott pushed the door open and waited for her to walk inside, following right behind her and closing the door behind him gently. The last thing they needed was someone seeing them and telling Deaton that Scott was sneaking people into the clinic after hours.

"He's in the surgical room." Malia led him down the hall. "It's the only place with a bed. He's pretty weak and he kept passing out."

"How weak?"

She looked back at him, her mouth set in a severe line. "Infected with a magical bullet and definitely about to die, weak."

Scott sighed and hurried his steps.

Malia was expecting one of two things— a dead or dying Derek. What she wasn't expecting was to walk into the room to see Derek on his feet, a puddle of black gunk on the floor, and Stiles holding a surgical saw against Derek's infected arm, ready to remove it. Her mouth fell open in shocked surprise.

Scott rushed past her. "What the hell are you doing!?"

Stiles dropped the saw to the side and went limp with relief. Letting out a breathless laugh, he said, "Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares."

Derek looked up, panting. "Did you get it?"

Malia dug the bullet out of her back pocket and passed it to him.

Derek raised it up, swaying as he stared at it.

"What are you gonna do with it?" Stiles wondered.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna..." The bullet dropped from Derek's fingers as his eyes rolled into his head and he fell backwards.

"Whoa!" Malia hurried to catch him, but his weight was a little more than she was prepared for, knocking them both to the ground in the process.

"No. No, no, no, no..." Scott lunged for the bullet as it rolled across the floor and underneath a cabinet, slipping down a drain. He hit the ground on his stomach and stretched his arm out, fishing around for the bullet. "Guys... I can't reach it."

Stiles moved around the table and knelt in front of Malia and Derek. He slapped Derek's cheek lightly. "Derek... Derek, come on, wake up."

Derek remained unresponsive.

Stiles looked to Malia, his brow knit. "I was joking earlier, about the whole digging a grave thing, but... now I'm thinking we might actually have to."

Malia rolled her eyes. She shifted her way out from beneath Derek and carefully laid him down on the ground. To Scott, she asked, "Any luck?"

"No." He let out a frustrated sigh. "I can feel it, but I can't get a grip on it."

"Just keep trying." Returning her attention to Derek, she pressed a hand to his cheek; it was damp and cold. She grimaced. "Derek, wake up. Come on, you said you could last a few hours, right? Well, your time's not up yet."

"Scott, I think he's dying." Stiles pressed his fingers to Derek's neck, searching for a pulse, and turned a panicked look on Malia. "I think he's dead."

"Just hold on!" Scott shouted back.

"What do we do?" Stiles panicked. "Malia, what do we do?"

She pushed up onto her knees and stacked her hands atop Derek's chest, beginning CPR.

"Does that... Will that even work? He's a freaking werewolf!"

"He has a heart, doesn't he?" She kept doing compressions, counting them off under her breath. "Air. Stiles, you need to breathe for him."

"I _what?_ " Stiles stared at her, wide-eyed. "Why can't you?"

"Seriously?"

"What if whatever's in his arm is communicable? Have you thought about that? Because I'm human and I _will_ die."

Her eyes narrowed on him and she gritted her teeth. "When this is over, I'm gonna—"

"I got it!" Scott raced over to them, bullet in hand. "I got it!"

"Look out." Stiles nudged Malia aside and folded his hand into a fist. "Please don't kill me for this…"

His fist slammed into Derek's cheek.

Malia scowled. "Why would hitting him do anyth—?"

With a gasp, Derek startled awake, his eyes wide.

Stiles stood back, ringing his hand. "Ow! _God!_ "

Derek motioned to Scott. "Gimme."

Scott handed the bullet over and, together with Malia, they got Derek onto his feet. Moving to the surgical table, Derek stuck the bullet between his teeth, bit down, and broke it open. He poured out the powder inside and lit it with a lighter from his pocket, sending sparks and a blue smoke up into the air. Dragging the powder into his hand, he slapped his palm down against the bullet hole and ground the powder in as deep as he could. With a strangled cry, he stumbled backwards, gritting his teeth and falling hard to the ground.

Scott, Malia, and Stiles gathered at Derek's feet, watching him thrash and shout. The veins in Derek's arm only seemed to thicken and darken. Malia's stomach twisted and turned. Her heart hammered as she bit her lip, watching worriedly. What if Stiles was right? What if Derek died? What would they do? What _could_ they do?

She felt the brush of fingers against her own and looked to her right. Scott's gaze was still on Derek, his brow furrowed and his mouth hanging open in shock. But his hand wrapped itself around hers, their fingers folding together, palms meeting in the middle. It was a small gesture— of comfort or solidarity or _something_ — and it meant everything.

"Look," Stiles muttered.

Malia turned her attention back to Derek only to see that the infection seemed to be swallowing itself. Reaching black veins receded, leaving clean skin behind, and the bullet hole itself healed over in a matter of seconds. Stunned silence echoed in the room until—

"That was _awesome!_ " Stiles fist-pumped. " _Yes!_ "

Scott turned to stare at him incredulously, shaking his head a little, before he looked back at Derek. "Are you okay?"

Derek sat up and rolled his eyes. "Well, except for the agonizing _pain_..."

"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health," Stiles snarked.

Derek stood, leveling Stiles with a glare that had him taking an uneasy step back.

Malia broke away from the boys and crossed the room, grabbing up a tattered shirt and Derek's jacket, which she dusted off and walked back over to him. "All things considered, I think we can chalk this up in the win column."

Derek snorted.

"Not completely." Scott frowned. "I'm still pretty sure Kate Argent thinks I stole something from her, with or without proof."

Derek looked up abruptly. "What do you mean?"

"Kate had the bullets stashed in her bag. Scott grabbed one while he was using the guest room bathroom. She noticed her bag was open and accused him of taking something." Malia shook her head. "We hid the bullet in time, so she didn't find anything on him, but she's still suspicious enough that she's a threat."

"The Argents are your enemy." A muscle ticked in Derek's jaw. He dragged on his shirt, scowled at the shredded sleeve, and then pulled his jacket on. "And that includes your girlfriend."

Scott paused. "Allison's different. She isn't like them."

"She's a good person," Malia agreed. "If you knew her, even if you'd just been there tonight, you'd see that."

"You can't trust them. _Any_ of them." Derek looked from Scott to Malia before keeping his focus on her. "She might be your friend now, but that'll only last for so long."

"I think you're wrong." Malia crossed her arms defiantly. "She doesn't think like they do. I don't even think she knows werewolves exist."

"And who do you think is going to shape her beliefs around us?" Derek shook his head, staring at her searchingly. "You're her friend, you're not her family. No matter what you do or say, she'll always believe them over you. They raised her. You were a stranger a month ago."

Malia's gaze fell, her mouth pursed. As much as she hated to admit it, he made a good point.

"If you want to stay alive, if you want to keep _each other_ alive, then you need to stay away from her."

"What if you're wrong?" Malia raised her eyes to meet his. "What if Allison really is different?"

"Are you willing to take that risk?"

She chewed her lip. It wasn't so long ago that she was sitting in Allison's room, telling her how she and Scott became friends, and the awe in Allison's face had said so much. It was filled with the hope that Allison could have something similar. Malia thought of ice skating and bowling and gymnastics. Of laughing with Allison over everything and nothing. As much as she'd never set out to make Allison a friend, that was exactly what she was. And Malia didn't turn her back on her friends.

Derek stepped closer, staring down at her seriously. "You want to know who the Argents are, what they'll do to you, what _Allison_ is going to become, I can show you that."

Her brow furrowed and she lifted her chin. "Go ahead."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Whatever Malia was expecting, it wasn't a drive to Beacons Crossing Home, a long-term care facility. Climbing out of the Camaro, she waited for Scott and Stiles to hop out of the jeep after it parked next to them.

"What are we doing here?" Scott wondered.

"Hopefully," Stiles muttered, "we're checking him in and never seeing him again."

Derek ignored them and made his way inside.

Malia glanced at the boys before giving in to her curiosity and following after Derek.

Sighing, Scott and Stiles trailed after her.

It was unnaturally quiet inside. Malia was somewhat used to the hustle and bustle of Beacon Hills General, with nurses and patients moving to and fro. But here, most of the patients were tucked neatly in their rooms. The staff moved around with no noticeable urgency, talking amongst each other, calmly moving in and out of rooms with food trays and medical charts.

Derek led them to a particular room. The lights were out and he didn't bother turning them on, leaving the room dressed in shadows.

Malia felt the skittering sensation of discomfort climb her spine. Scott and Stiles were right behind her, clustered at her back; she took comfort in their presence. As much as she didn't think Derek was out to hurt her, this place gave her the creeps.

There was a lone man in the room, seated in a wheel chair, staring at, well, _nothing_. He was facing a wall; beige, of course, just like everything else in this place. Sterile, absent, and empty— how mind numbingly awful.

Scott cleared his throat. "Who is he?"

"My uncle," Derek answered. "Peter Hale."

Stiles peered over Malia's shoulder, trying to get a better look. "Is he a werewolf, too?"

"He was." Derek stared down at his uncle. The anger of before was dampened by a very real sadness. "Now he's barely even human."

Malia peered at Peter, unmoving, unresponsive, and felt her stomach dip. Was this any way to live?

"Six years ago, while I was at school, my house caught fire." Derek's hands folded into fists. "Nine people were trapped inside. My uncle, my parents, two brothers, and four sisters. Peter was the only survivor."

Swallowing tightly, Malia reached out, her hand wrapping around Derek's wrist and squeezing.

He looked back at her, his brow furrowed.

Stiles piped up then, "How do you know it was the Argents?"

Derek's gaze cut toward him. "'Cause they're the only ones that knew about us."

"You said that the hunters have a code, right?" Scott shook his head. "Then what is it? What made them attack?"

"Made them?" His eyes narrowed. "What justifies any of this?" Derek reached down and turned the wheel chair— the entire right side of Peter's face was scar tissue.

Malia felt Stiles spring back in surprise, muttering, "Holy..." under his breath.

Scott sucked in a breath.

But Malia merely stared. Peter's head hung to one side, staring sightlessly ahead. The scarred side of his face was mottled, bumpy, and seemingly in a state of melting. Part of his hair line was gone, leaving rippled skin bare above his ear. The pain must've been excruciating. Werewolf or not— to have been caught in the middle of the fire, to feel it eating away at his body, his face, to have his family dying or dead all around him...

Derek's voice cut through her thoughts. "They say they'll only kill an adult and even then, they need proof that a werewolf is dangerous. That they pose some kind of threat. But they didn't care about that. I was _your_ age when they set that fire. I had five younger siblings who'd never done anything wrong. Never _hurt_ anyone. And they still did it. Because they _don't care_."

Scott swallowed tightly, his voice hoarse as he said, "I'm sorry."

Derek shook his head. "You don't get it." He turned to Malia, baring his teeth in his anger. "This is what they _do_. And it's what Allison _will_ do."

Malia stared up at him, her brow furrowed.

An unfamiliar voice interrupted then. "What are you doing?" A severe looking nurse stood in the doorway, her hair slicked back into a tight bun. "How did you get in here?"

Derek glanced at her. "We were just leaving."

Stiles hurried out first, awkwardly rubbing a hand over his head.

Derek followed, casting one last look at his uncle.

Malia lingered a moment, staring at the shell of Peter Hale. A survivor who didn't seem to be surviving whatsoever.

"Lia...?" Scott's fingers grazed her wrist. "We should go."

She swallowed tightly and nodded. "Yeah."

Scott towed her out of the room, but Malia kept looking back, trying to ingrain the image of a broken man on her mind. Was Derek right? Was this what the Argents did? Was this where Allison was headed?

* * *

 **...**

* * *

"Allison still won't answer her door…" Kate pursed her lips. "I even tried bringing her extra dessert."

"You accused her boyfriend of stealing from you." Chris shrugged from his seat on the couch, a glass of bourbon in his hand. "It'll take some time for her to get over."

"Yeah, but you were grilling him through the whole dinner." Kate snorted. "She wasn't happy about it, but she isn't giving _you_ the silent treatment."

"I haven't tried to talk to her. I know better." He half-smiled and then dropped his gaze to his drink. "What do you think about him?"

"Who? Scott?" Kate shook her head. "He's soft. Or he acts that way, anyway. He's got edges, he just keeps them hidden."

Chris' brows hiked. "Edges?"

"You saw how he defended Malia when Victoria asked how her mom died. He got riled up and he didn't back down. Kitty's got claws."

Chris hummed, his brow furrowed.

"So does she… Sure was quick to step in when I accused him of stealing."

"They're friends."

Kate hummed, absently playing with a long match between her fingers, her gaze turned away thoughtfully. Eventually, she shook her head. "On to more important topics… The wolf that attacked me was big. It had width and power. But, the one I shot was lean and _fast_."

Chris leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. "Well, that would be Derek Hale."

She clucked her tongue. "Are we sure?"

Chris paused. "Mostly."

Kate shrugged. "Well, how do we know it's just two of 'em?"

"We don't yet."

Kate bent to twist a knob next to the fireplace.

Sighing, Chris sat back. "But, if Derek's _alive_ , he'll lead us to the alpha."

"Take the pack leader..." Kate grinned. "Take the pack."

Chris raised his glass in cheers. "And we do it according to the code."

Kate snickered and shook her head. "You and the code."

"It's there for a _reason_ , Kate."

Amused, she grinned to herself. "Of course." She lit the match with an easy flick of her thumb and held it up to admire the flame before tossing it behind her, where it landed in the fireplace and created a roaring fire. Smirking, she winked at him. "I always play by the rules."

* * *

 **...**

* * *

"Are you sure you want to ride home with him?" Stiles glanced past Malia's shoulder to Derek and then back. He rested his arm atop the hood of his jeep, fingers tapping nervously. "I know he almost died, but he's still a dick."

Malia snorted. "I'll be fine. Really. I'll text you when I'm home and let you know I'm okay."

"All right. But in future, we need a—" He snapped his fingers. "—a code word or something. We can text it to let the other know it's really them and there's nothing to worry about."

"Sure. Or I can Facetime you if you're really worried."

"Either works." He backed up toward the driver's door and pulled it open.

Scott lingered, his hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie.

Malia smiled reassuringly. "You want a text, too?"

"Yeah." He ducked his eyes. "I can't get it out of my head."

"What, Derek's uncle? Not exactly pretty, was it?"

"That, too." He nodded. "But what Allison's dad said, about the dog snapping its own back. You think that's true?"

Malia stepped closer. She reached out and tugged at the front of his shirt. "I think he's an intimidating guy who uses stories like that to let people know he's dangerous and then he smiles to hide it." She shook her head. "You're not a dog, Scott."

His shoulders slumped. "No, I'm worse."

"Says who?" She caught his chin and raised it. "If what Derek says is true, then the Argents have always and will always see werewolves as the enemy. Anything they say is colored by that. You don't need them or Derek or _anyone_ to tell you who you are. You're not going to find that in someone else. This werewolf thing is just a piece of the picture, not the whole thing."

He reached up and covered her hand with his, the tips of his fingers sliding over her knuckles and along the length of each of her fingers. "I'm still dangerous."

"We're all dangerous if we try hard enough." She smiled then and pinched his chin. "Go home, get some sleep. It's been a long and stressful day."

"Yeah… Hey, we should get together tomorrow night. Like we did on Thursday. A movie, junk food, that kind of thing."

Malia wanted to, she really did, but she couldn't. "I would, but I already made plans with Cole."

Scott went still. "Right. Yeah, of course." His brow furrowed. "Uh, have fun then, I guess."

Nodding, Malia let go of his chin and stepped back. "I'll text you when I'm home."

"Okay."

Turning on her heel, she made her way to Derek's car and climbed into the passenger seat.

Irritably, he asked, "Do you two always take that long to say goodbye?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "Why? You got somewhere to be? 'Cause last I checked, your social calendar wasn't exactly overflowing."

Derek snorted and backed the car up. "Have I thanked you yet for saving my life?"

"No. And you should thank Scott. He's the one that found the bullet."

"With your help."

"I kept the Argents distracted— it wasn't rocket science. Besides, I'm human, remember? They're not a threat to me."

"You think that matters to people like them?" He raised an eyebrow. "Kate Argent wouldn't hesitate to put you down just as fast as me or Scott." His hands flexed on the steering wheel. "They're the real monsters."

Malia had no counter to that, not after seeing what was left of Peter Hale.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Malia and Derek sat in an idling Camaro just outside of her house, the headlights off and the heater on high.

Grimacing, he muttered, "I don't need a babysitter."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Why not? Just because your arm looks healed doesn't mean you're at a hundred percent. I bet even Stiles could take you right now."

Derek scoffed. "Hardly."

She shifted in her seat to see him better. "It's one night. You can stay in Kylie's bedroom. My dad never goes in there."

Derek paused. "He won't notice?"

This late at night, there was little to no chance that her dad wasn't passed out either on the couch or in his bed. It would take an earthquake to wake him up. "He's a heavy sleeper."

"Is that before or after he finishes off a six pack?"

She ground her teeth and refused to look in his direction. "You want to stay or not? The offer has an expiry date and the more you annoy me, the sooner it is."

Derek sighed. "I'm only doing this because the Argents are probably still looking for me."

"Uh-huh."

"It's not going to become a habit." He cut the engine. "I don't need your charity."

Climbing out of the car, she walked up the driveway, not bothering to wait for him. She skipped the loose stair to the porch and dug her keys out. Opening the front door, she pushed it open slowly, peeking inside to see if her dad was on the couch. Finding it empty, she walked into the house and kicked her shoes off. Waving at Derek to follow, she made her way down the hall. She was about to pass the linen closet when she paused, backed up, and reached inside to dig out clean sheets and a blanket. Kylie's bedroom was right next to Malia's, but it remained closed for the most part. Years ago, her dad had stripped the room down as much as possible, leaving behind only the essentials— a bed, two side tables, and a white dresser.

She ushered Derek through the door and quietly closed it behind them. Making her way to the bed, she dropped the linens on top and got to work dressing it. Derek circled around to the other side, reached for a corner of the sheet, and helped her spread it out, tucking everything in on his end. He glanced at her off and on, his mouth pursed.

"What?" she finally asked, exasperated.

"What are you going to do about Allison?"

Sighing, she shook her head. "I don't know."

"She's dangerous."

"So are you and I still invited you to stay." She looked up at him, scowling. "Things aren't black and white, I think you know that. It's not as simple as saying she's an Argent therefore she's the enemy. Her family, yes. I'd prefer to avoid her dad and her aunt, especially. But Allison is just a sixteen-year-old girl who wants friends."

"Hunters are _bred_. They're trained and created by their parents so that when the time comes, they'll be the perfect killing machines."

Malia rolled her eyes. "She's not an elite assassin. She- She's just like me."

" _No_ , she isn't." He sighed. "You look at me and Scott and you want to see the best in us. You want to believe that, deep down, we aren't animals. That we're just as human as you are."

"You are!"

"Partly, yeah. But we're animals, too. We shift and we fight and we heal. Scott might try to hide from that, but we both know that when the time comes, he's going to have to choose who and what he is."

Malia's eyes narrowed. "We agreed to help you bring down the alpha because it's hurting people— _killing_ people. After that, I don't know what happens."

"Scott needs people like him. He needs a pack."

She crossed her arms. "And that's you?"

"No, it's you." He stared at her. "A pack doesn't have to be strictly shifters. They might understand better what he's going through, but that's not all he'll need. What Scott really needs, what he _wants_ , is a tether. An anchor to his human half. And whether he knows it or not, he has one."

Malia shook her head. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're smart. You'll figure it out."

She huffed. "You are so unbelievably cryptic, you know that?"

A faint smile edged his mouth up. "I can be."

Grabbing the blanket, she flipped it up, letting the fabric unravel. "Was that the first time you've seen your uncle since...?"

"Since the fire or since I got back?"

"Either."

"No." He caught an end of the blanket and helped spread it over the bed. "After the fire, Laura and I ran. She didn't think we were safe, so we left as soon as we could. I didn't even know Peter had made it until a week later. Laura called the hospital, put everything in motion to make sure he was taken care of. But I never came back, not until she stopped answering my calls."

"And all this time…? You were just laying low?"

He shook his head. "We bounced around a lot the first couple of years. I finished high school online."

"What made you stop?"

"I was accepted at Columbia in New York." He shrugged. "Laura said it was time to stop hiding, so we did. Or I did. I moved into the dorms on campus and she… She kept moving." Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "This was always home for her. Didn't matter how long we were gone, she always knew she'd come back here…"

Malia stared at him a moment. The windows had no curtains; shafts of moonlight fell across him, leaving him dressed in light and shadow. With his slumped shoulders and hanging head, he was the picture of defeat. "You were close? You and Laura."

"Yeah." His throat bobbed and his eyes fell shut. "She was older than me by a few years. When I was a kid, I idolized her. Laura is… _was_ strong and smart. She was who I _wanted_ to be. Just like my mom. The kind of person who knows who they are and does the right thing. Who always knows what the right thing _is_." He sighed. "I could always go to her, no matter what I did or what was going on. She was always there for me. Both of them were."

"They sound pretty amazing."

His eyes opened then. "They were."

"I'm sorry you lost them."

He turned to her then, searching her face a moment. "What about your mom?"

Malia hugged her arms around herself. "What about her?"

"What was she like?"

"She was…" She swallowed. "My dad used to say that she was wild. She grew up in Beacon Hills but as soon as she graduated, she was gone. She had this beat up old van and she just drove until she found what she was looking for. Apparently, it was this commune on the other side of the country where they grew all their own food. That's what made her want to go to school. She wanted to learn about sustainable living and agriculture and have her own farm. But after she met my dad and they moved back to Beacon Hills, the best she got was her own garden..." She shook her head. "It's all weeds now. I never had a green thumb. I mean, I tried, but I couldn't get the hang of it." She paused for a moment, overwhelmed with a simultaneously warm and empty feeling. "She had the most beautiful laugh, you know? She was just a really happy person who loved her family and made sure we knew it."

Derek nodded. "And your dad?"

"He used to be happy, too. He'd race home from work to be with us…" She smiled faintly. "Every year on my birthday, he'd call in sick so we could hang out. He'd take me to the arcade and let me eat my weight in pizza." Her face fell. "Now, I'm lucky if he remembers what month it is."

Derek stared at her searchingly. "He drinks a lot." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

She raised her eyes to meet his. "He's coping."

He shook his head. "That's not coping."

Scoffing, she glared at him. "Says the guy living in his family's burned out house."

"You can't grieve or heal if you're always drunk. Maybe that's what he wants. Maybe he thinks healing means forgetting. Take it from me, you won't forget them. But hiding from it isn't going to make it any better."

"Are you healing?"

Derek stared at her a beat and then looked away. "My situation is a little different."

"How?"

"I made a lot of mistakes. And I paid for them."

"You think the fire was your fault?" Her brow furrowed. "What, like you were being punished?"

He clenched his jaw. "There are different ways to hide. Your dad uses the bottle, but you keep people at arm's length."

She snorted. "You're one to talk."

His mouth hitched up faintly. "And you get defensive if anyone points out the obvious."

Malia scowled. "I don't need a psychologist, okay?"

"Good, because I'd probably be a shitty one." He searched her face. "The only reason I know you push people away is because I've been doing the same thing for six years. Some advice? It gets lonely real quick. All I had was Laura and now I've lost her, too."

"An hour ago you were telling me to drop Allison and never look back."

Derek stood from the bed then, his shoulders tensed. "The Argents are different. You can't trust them."

"Can I trust you?"

"I think we both know you already do." His brows hiked. "Or I wouldn't be here right now."

He had her there. Still, Malia shook her head. "Tomorrow's Saturday. My dad sleeps in, but I'd still recommend sneaking out early." She walked to the door, but paused before she could walk through it. "I do trust you... Don't make me regret it."

Not bothering to wait for a reply, she left, gently closing the door behind her before she made her way to her room.

Exhausted, Malia stripped out of her clothes and pulled on a pair of pajamas before scooping a half-asleep Shiloh up and carrying her to her bed.

Climbing under the covers, she laid on her back, Shiloh tucked against her side, and dug her phone out. She thumbed through her text messages, sending one off to Stiles first. —' _made it home and headed to bed_ '

Stiles was quick to reply —' _we still need a safe word so i know it's really you_ ' It was followed quickly by—' _like pomegranate_ '

Malia rolled her eyes. —' _why pomegranate?_ '

—' _i don't know! it the first thing that came to mind_ '

—' _you come up with something and then we'll both erase it from our phones so nobody but us knows what it is_ '

She snorted and typed back— ' _your paranoia is showing_ '

Ignoring her, he texted —' _maybe we could keep it simple like 'green light'_ '

—' _green means you're good, red means danger, yellow means get ready to panic_ '

Grinning, she shook her head— ' _what does crosswalk mean?_ '

He sent her an angry emoticon and— ' _you're impossible_ '

She snorted, amused. —' _thanks. but fine, traffic lights it is. i'm at green, btw_ '

—' _me too_ '

Scoffing, she typed back— ' _that's not how this works, stiles_ '

—' _GREEN. i'm green!_ '

Malia sent a laughing emoji. —' _good. i'm going to bed. today has been long and weird. remind me to tell you about allison's strange family and how over the top dramatic and intimidating they are_ '

He sent a thumbs up emoji. —' _tomorrow?_ '

She paused. —' _i'll skype you. just not too late, i have a thing with cole_ '

—' _what do you mean THING?_ '

She rolled her eyes. —' _goodnight stiles_.' She added a heart and ghost emoji and left the conversation, thumbing down to Scott's name. —' _hey, guess who made it home safe and sound?_ '

He replied with a smiley emoji, followed by— ' _glad to hear it_ '

Above, she could see Stiles' latest message telling her— ' _don't forget to erase any evidence of our safe word!_ '

Rolling her eyes, she returned her attention to Scott's chat, seeing that he was writing. A bubble formed, disappeared, then returned. Her brow furrowed. —' _have you heard from allison?_ '

—' _no_ ' he wrote back. —' _i feel bad_.'

Malia chewed the inside of her cheek. —' _me too. but it was important_.'

—' _yeah, i know_ ' he texted, followed by— ' _what do you think about what derek said? about the argents?_ '

Malia hesitated a moment, eventually admitting —' _he's not totally wrong. they're hunters, we can't trust them_ '

—' _and allison?_ '

— _'i don't know. i don't think she's like them_.' She paused. —' _not yet at least_ '

A minute passed, and then another, before finally—' _what do we do?_ '

—' _i don't know. i wish i did_ '

—' _me too_ ' Malia stared at those two words until a new text appeared. —' _you should get some sleep. it's been a long day. text me tomorrow?_ '

She smiled to herself. —' _i will. you too_.'

He sent her a heart emoji. —' _night_ '

—' _night_ '

Malia sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. She plugged her phone in and placed it on her bedside table before rolling over. Hooking an arm around Shiloh, she kissed the top of her head and closed her eyes. Hopefully, tomorrow would be a little less crazy.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

 _An eight-year-old Malia can't remember when the swing was made, but every day she finds herself sitting in it. She pumps her legs until they hurt, her hands so tight around the rope that it leaves her palms red and sore. It doesn't matter how high Malia goes, it's never enough. Sometimes, she wishes she was a bird. That wings might sprout from her back and she could weave through the clouds and sit atop the highest branches._

 _"What kind of bird would you be?" Evelyn kneels in the soft earth, dragging her forearm over her face to wipe away the sweat that dots her skin. Her cheeks are ruddy, her forehead sunburned, and her smile wide. "An eagle? Hummingbird? Maybe a beach scavenging seagull?"_

 _Malia laughs, her head thrown back, hair blowing across her face each time she swings backward. "I wanna be fast!"_

 _"How fast?"_

 _"So fast you can't see me!"_

 _"What if I want to see you, huh? What about then?"_

 _Malia lets her legs dangle and lifts her head. "I'll slow down. But just for you."_

 _"Oh, I'm special."_

 _"Yup."_

 _When her swing slows just enough, Malia leaps from it, landing with one knee braced on the ground._

 _Evelyn shakes her head. "You give me a small heart attack every time you do that."_

 _"Good thing you got a strong heart." Malia walks over and takes a seat in the dirt, crossing her legs beneath her. Seeing a worm peek out of the ground, she reaches for it._

 _"Careful," he mother warns. "Remember— this is their home."_

 _Malia's mouth screws up. "It's mine, too."_

 _"You have a cozy bed inside. You're sitting on their bed." Evelyn scoops her hand into the dirt and lifts it up, bringing the worm with it. "They're all part of a chain. They take care of the ground that we use to grow our food, so we have to respect them and give them the space to do it."_

 _Malia reaches a finger out and the worm wiggles around, brushing against her. An excited cry leave Malia and she pulls her hand back abruptly. But just as quick, she's reaching out again. "Does it like peas?"_

 _"I don't think they've ever had one. They get their nutrients from what lives in the soil." Evelyn smiles down at her. "This is one of your favorite memories. You dream about it a lot."_

 _Malia hums, still staring at the worm._

 _"Do you still want to be a bird?"_

 _In a blink, Malia is her sixteen-year-old self, still seated in the dirt, hand outstretched toward the worm. "I don't know what I want to be."_

 _"What if you didn't have to be anything but what you are?"_

 _She snorts. "Mom, there's only two years left until graduation. I can't put that on a college application."_

 _Evelyn lowers her hand, tipping it to let the dirt and worm return to the ground. She removes her gloves, tucks them away in her pocket, and sits back on her haunches. "When you were little, you wanted to be a fireman. It used to scare me. The idea that you might go running into a burning house one day and never come out... But that's exactly who you are. I learned to accept that."_

 _Malia stares up at her searchingly. "Is that a bad thing? Wanting to help people?"_

 _"No. Of course not. I just want you to look out for yourself. Make sure someone is watching out for you, too." She reaches out then, her fingers cupped beneath Malia's chin. "Promise me you'll be careful."_

 _Malia drags a finger over her heart with her finger once, twice, making an 'X.' "I promise."_

 _"Malia!" Kylie stands on the edge of the garden, beaming at her. "You're it!"_

 _"Go," Evelyn tells her. "I'll be here when you're done."_

 _Malia looks down at herself, a young girl again. "No, you won't," she says, but she stands anyway. "None of this is real."_

 _As she takes off toward Kylie, her mother's voice follows her. "Be careful!"_

 _"We will," Malia and Kylie sing-song back._

 _When Malia reaches her sister, Kylie's smile widens. "Catch me!" she cries before she races toward the trees._

 _Malia stares after her a moment. With a grin, she gives chase._

* * *

 **...**

* * *

When Malia woke the next day, nostalgia left her feeling raw and empty. Dragging herself out of bed, she left her room to take Shiloh out. She paused outside of Kylie's bedroom, wondering if Derek was still asleep inside. Quietly, she turned the handle and let the door swing open. The bed was stripped down; sheets and blanket carefully folded up and resting at the corner of the mattress. Something was left behind, however. On the bedside table was a faded gas station receipt, held in place with one of her mom's cat shaped salt shakers. The receipt read simply, _'thanks -dh.'_ Malia shoved it in her pocket, grabbed the salt shaker, and made her way to the door.

With Shiloh right at her heels, Malia walked down the hall and into the living room, cutting toward the fireplace mantle to replace her mom's salt shaker. Not one of her best, she had to admit. It was lumpy and misshapen.

"Were you in Kylie's room?"

Malia jumped and whirled around, surprised to see her dad awake and sitting at the kitchen table, a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. "Um, yeah. I felt a draft, I thought the window was open or something. It's not."

Henry stared at her a beat, his brow furrowed. Then, with a shake of his head, he looked back to the paper in front of him. "There's still some eggs in the pan if you're hungry."

"Thanks." She padded across the floor to let Shiloh out to pee, keeping an eye on her as she sniffed around in the grass. Leaning against the door jamb, her hands tucked behind her back, she let her gaze wander back to her dad. A cup of steaming coffee sat in front of his plate. "There's a parent-teacher conference on Monday. I can't remember if I told you or not."

He looked up. "You put it on the calendar?"

Her eyes moved to the calendar on the fridge, the one that still said November. Seeing as it was closing in on the end of January, she shook her head. "Think we might need a new one."

Henry's gaze moved to the fridge and he sighed. "I'll pick one up. Just, uh, remind me on Monday. I'll be there."

"Okay."

Shiloh made her way inside once more, tail wagging. She took a seat at Henry's feet and stared up at him hopefully, waiting on any scraps.

Closing the door, Malia made her way to the stove. She dug out a plate and filled it with the last of the leftover eggs. Pouring herself a glass of orange juice, she joined her dad at the table. It felt nice to see him awake and to share space with him again. She smothered a smile in a bite of eggs. Maybe it was another sign of change on the horizon. She could hope.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

That afternoon, Malia was digging around in her closet for something to wear when Allison called. Hesitating a moment, she eventually thumbed the 'Answer' button and raised the phone to her ear. "Hey."

"Hey!" Allison's voice was a little high pitched. "Um, I know you're hanging out with Cole tonight, I just wanted to talk to you... I still feel terrible about last night and, I don't know. I feel like maybe you're mad at me."

"I'm not." Malia shook her head. "I don't know Kate all that well. But I know you, and I don't blame you for anything that happened. It was a weird and awkward dinner and I hope we never have to sit through another one."

"Yeah, me too. I don't know why Kate was being like that. The whole dinner felt very pitch forks and torches, you know? Like, if my dad wasn't trying to put Scott down, Kate was asking you really personal questions. I'm sorry they were so strange."

"It's fine. Maybe it was the wine or something." She turned her attention back to her closet and continued to search through her tops. "Hey, do you have any movie recommendations? I'm stopping by the store to pick something up before I head over to Cole's."

"You're the second person to ask me that today. I guess Lydia and Jackson are having a movie night, too. I gave her a bunch, but it sounds like she's just going to watch The Notebook again."

Malia hummed. "Already seen it. What about Easy A? Is that good?"

"Yeah! I liked it."

She nodded. "Maybe I'll pick that up."

"What happened to making out through the whole movie?"

"I'll just take it home with me and watch it then. It'd be a waste of money to rent it and not even see it."

Allison laughed. "Good point."

"What're you gonna do tonight?"

"Uh... I don't know. Kate wants to hang out, but I'm still kind of mad at her. Actually, I'm not really talking to her."

"How long is she staying?" Malia wondered. "I mean, if she's leaving soon and you're not going to see each other for a while…"

"I don't think she is. The way her and dad are talking, it looks like she'll be around for a while. They're working on some deal together. It's really important, I guess."

Malia frowned. That wasn't what she was hoping to hear. Shaking her head, she said, "Well, you could always veg out in your room and just watch a movie or something on your laptop."

"Yeah, I probably will. Okay, I'll leave you to your non-date. Text me tomorrow when you want to get together."

"I will. Have a good night."

"You, too. Bye."

"Bye."

Hanging up, Malia put her hands on her hips and sighed at her closet. Choosing to go with comfort, she grabbed out a tank top and a warm sweater.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Crossing the video store parking lot, Malia grinned down at her phone. Danny had sent her a picture of him and Adam, sun setting at their backs, arms hooked around each other's shoulders as they beamed for the camera. She texted him back —' _see? obnoxiously cute together_ '

He sent her a winky emoji with its tongue out. —' _the granola was great too_ '

—' _he's a keeper'_

She pulled the store door open and walked inside, a bell ringing overheard. The place looked basically empty, outside of a a clerk on a ladder, trying to replace a blinking lightbulb. There was a TV in the corner of the room, playing a movie she vaguely recognized— the volume was unnecessarily high, making everything sound a little too shriek-y for her tastes.

Malia cut to the right and went in search of Easy A, walking up and down aisles, checking genres and titles as she went.

Feeling her phone buzz, she swiped it open.

Danny had sent another text —' _fingers crossed_ ' followed by —' _cole's tonight right?_ '

—' _yup. picking out a movie now_. _allison suggested easy a_.'

He sent a thumbs up emoji. — _'good movie. not that you'll see much of it.'_

Malia rolled her eyes. Having her head down, she didn't quite see where she was going and clipped someone as she passed them. Looking up to apologize, she was surprised to find Erica standing in front of her. Hair up in a messy bun and wearing her comfiest sweat pants, Erica looked ready for a night in.

"Hey." Malia grinned. "Don't tell me you're looking for Easy A, too?"

Erica shook her head. "Nope. I'm going for a horror movie. Just can't figure out which one yet." She held up three. "Suggestions?"

Malia plucked a DVD from her hand and snorted. "I _told_ Stiles 'Alien' was a horror..."

Her brows hiked. "Sci-fi horror. One of the best kinds."

"Agreed." She looked at the other two. "Ghosts or serial killer?"

Erica shrugged. "I don't find zombies creepy enough. Ghosts freak me out and serial killers are too real _not_ to be scary."

"True."

A thud sounded through the store then and Malia frowned, turning her head. She waited to see if she'd hear anything else but when nothing immediately came, she returned her attention to Erica. Just as she was about to suggest which movie would be a better watch, a scream could be heard. Loud, agonized, and very, _very_ real.

Erica jumped, her eyes wide.

Malia raised her phone and sent a text to Danny. —' _call 911_ ' Tucking it in her pocket, she handed the DVD off to Erica and started in the direction of the scream. There were two pillars with a long front desk between them that separated one side of the store from the other, which meant she couldn't see what was going on without getting closer.

Erica grabbed at the sleeve of Malia's sweater. "Wait. What if it's dangerous?"

"Someone's probably hurt." Malia waved her off. "Stay here. I'll look."

"Are you kidding? You can't leave me alone back here..." She shoved the movies back on a random shelf and motioned around. "I'm literally standing in the horror aisle."

Rolling her eyes, Malia nodded for Erica to follow. Slowly, and as quietly as they could, they made their way across the store, trying to get a look at whatever was happening. The ladder was still standing beneath the buzzing and blinking light, but the clerk was missing.

Another strangled cry rent the room, followed by a gurgling noise, and Malia stopped. Her stomach tied itself in knots and her chest grew tight. She had a feeling that whatever they were about to find, it wasn't that the clerk had simply slipped off his ladder.

Erica stood at her back, her breathing sounding incredibly loud.

From where Malia was standing, she could see a foot sticking out from an aisle. Her heart was racing and her palms grew sweaty. Hesitantly, she took a step forward, even as every instinct screamed at her to stop and turn back.

Erica pulled at the back of her sweater. " _Don't_ ," she whispered.

But Malia had to. She needed to know if the clerk was just injured or dead. She kept walking, even as each step felt heavier and more damning than the last. Until finally, she reached the aisle, and could see a man sprawled out on the floor, twisted at the waist, his back against the movie shelf. His throat was slashed open, blood spatter across his cheek and down his chest. It pooled beneath his head, hanging limply, his eyes still open behind blunt, square glasses.

Erica sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers digging into Malia's arm.

Malia turned. "Don't look."

"He's—"

 _Movement._ Someone or something was still in the store. It was a dark blur out of the corner of Malia's eye, making its way down the outer aisle. It circled around and cut across the center, making it clear that the door was not an option.

Malia grabbed Erica's hand and hurried into the aisle just ahead of where the clerk was, pulling her down to crouch with her.

"What are you doing?" Erica whispered worriedly. "We need to get out of here."

"It saw us. Which means that if we make a break for the door, it'll chase us."

She shook her head. "What is it?"

 _The Alpha_. She couldn't be sure, of course, but given the claw marks, she felt pretty positive. "I don't know. A bear, cougar, _something_."

Erica swallowed tightly. "What if it attacks us?"

"There's two of us..." Malia nodded. "One of us can run for the door, get help, the other can distract it."

Erica's brow furrowed. "You're on the track team. You're faster."

"Which means it'll have a harder time catching me when I distract it." Malia took a deep breath. "Okay. When I give a signal—"

The bell above the front door rang then, followed by, "Can somebody help me find The Notebook?"

 _Jackson_.

Malia closed her eyes and let out a sigh through her nose. Talk about the worst possible timing…

The front desk phone started ringing too, making the store seem even more eerie.

"Hello...? Is anybody working here?"

Erica turned a worried look on Malia. "What do we do?"

Malia could hear Jackson's footsteps making their way up the carpeted aisle.

"You gotta be kidding me," he muttered irritably.

Malia closed her eyes and shook her head. She motioned for Erica to stay put and edged closer to the end of the aisle, trying to peek around to catch Jackson's eye and warn him to stop and be quiet. But just as she did, he stopped short, directly in front of the dead clerk. Before she could call out a warning, Jackson stumbled backwards in shock. He hit the ladder, which knocked into the hanging bulb. Suddenly, the TV died and every light across the ceiling was blinking in and out. A red glow was all that lit each period of darkness, coming off the sign in the window.

A vicious growl echoed through the store then— Malia swore she could feel the very real sensation of terror momentarily stun everyone in the room. Shaking it off, she reached out, snagged a leg of Jackson's jeans, and yanked.

He yelped and looked down, his eyes wide and his brow furrowed.

She glared up at him.

Getting the message, he hurried to hide with them, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

Erica looked from him to Malia. "What now?"

"The plan is the same." Malia peeked around the edge of the shelf and saw a dark blur race across the aisle again. Instead of speaking, Malia pointed at Jackson, then Erica, and finally the door.

His brow furrowed and he pointed at himself questionably.

Rolling her eye, Malia reached out, took his hand, and put it with Erica's. She used her fingers to mimic running and again pointed at the door.

He frowned and motioned to her, shaking his head.

Malia grabbed up a few DVD's, pretending to throw them before she tapped her ear and waved her hand vaguely to gesture the animal itself.

Erica reached out and grabbed Malia's hand, using it to motion to all three of them, as if to suggest that they all run.

Malia stared at her a beat and then looked at Jackson, her brows hiked.

He nodded, slow and jerky.

Suddenly, they heard a crashing noise, and Malia looked out to see that alpha had knocked one of the shelves over and it was having a domino effect.

Malia pulled at Erica's hand, leading her and Jackson into the aisle before the shelves could topple over and trap them underneath. She held up three fingers and then she darted to the left, leaving them to their countdown. Malia started throwing DVDs at the far wall, hoping the noise would draw the alpha in that direction. Not to her, exactly, but away from the door, giving her a chance to run, too. She swiped full shelves of their DVDs and eventually pushed one shelf so it would crash into the one behind it.

When the lights flared back up, she could see as Jackson and Erica broke toward the door.

She also caught a brief look at a dark mass in the far right corner of the store, its head turning in either direction, like it was trying to decide if it wanted to attack Jackson and Erica or _her_. When it went for them instead, Malia rerouted herself. They were nearly to the door, but she could see the alpha gaining ground. Malia gathered up every reserve of energy and ran as fast as she could. When she was close enough, she shoved Jackson forward, hard enough that he tripped and hit the ground, taking Erica down with him. Malia's relief was brief.

The alpha slammed into her side and sent her flying through the air. She careened right into the wall, taking down shelves and DVDs with her. When she hit the floor, she grunted in pain. Oh yeah, that was definitely going to bruise. Gasping for air, she kicked her legs out and willed her lungs to start functioning. She could only remember getting the wind knocked out of her once before. When she'd been on the swing in her back yard and Kylie had stepped in front of it. In an effort not to hit her, Malia had let go of the ropes and fallen backwards, landing hard on the ground. As a kid, she'd panicked, terrified that she was dying. But her mom had hovered over her, a hand on her chest, her voice soothing as she told her to just relax and the air would come.

It wasn't her mom's voice in her ears now, however.

Instead, she heard Jackson telling Erica, "Come on, come on!"

It took seconds that felt like minutes, but eventually, Malia was able to catch a breath. She opened her eyes, her vision sinking sideways for a moment. She listened to the bell ring above the door and turned her head, watching Jackson pull Erica along with him. They were safe. Relief filled her with a cool sensation, starting at the top of her head and spreading down to her toes. But it was short lived.

The alpha stood before her— the lights had given out completely, meaning all she could see was a red glow against dark fur. But she could hear it growling, a rumbling like gravel. And suddenly, she could feel the weight of a hand-like paw pressing down hard against her chest, enough that her lungs were compressed.

Malia stared up at it, breaths coming in little gasps. It lowered its head, sniffing at her, baring its long, jagged teeth in the process. Her heart stuttered, fear swallowing her up.

And then—

 _Sirens._

The alpha raised its head and pulled away. It turned and took a running leap out the window, sending shards of glass all over. Malia heard a sharp scream from outside— Erica? It sounded feminine. Maybe Jackson had brought Lydia along.

Worried that the alpha might be attacking them outside, Malia tried to pull herself up. She sucked in a strangled breath and turned herself over. Her arms and legs were heavy and weak, but she managed to lift herself up. On her hands and knees, she attempted to crawl toward the door. There were bits of glass on the carpet; she could feel them slice up her palms. She kept going, even as every muscle screamed and her lungs felt like lead weights in her chest.

The door swung open again and a panicked Erica hurried toward her, falling to her knees at Malia's shoulder. "It's gone. Whatever it is, it ran."

Malia let her arms go limp and dropped to the floor on her stomach. "Jackson?"

"He's okay. He's trying to get Lydia to stop freaking out... It's not working so much." There was a pause before, "You're bleeding."

"Yeah. I cut my hands on some glass. It's fine." She groaned. "It'll be a bitch to get out later, but—"

"No. Your side." Erica reached out and carefully pulled Malia's sweater up.

Malia hissed through her teeth. "Okay, _ow_."

"Sorry."

Blue and red lights flooded the front window then. "The police are here."

Malia nodded. "Good."

"How'd they know?"

"I texted Danny when we heard someone scream." She screwed up her face, rolled over, and held a hand out. "Help me up."

"Should you be moving around? Maybe we should wait until the paramedics—"

"Erica?" She stared up at her, brow furrowed. "What, in the short time we've known each other, makes you think I want a paramedic poking at me?"

With a long-suffering sigh, she reached down and took Malia's hand, pulling her up and onto her feet.

Malia whimpered and wrapped her free arm around her waist, feeling the fabric squelch where it was soaked through with blood.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be fine."

"What you did...?" Erica shook her head. "That was crazy."

Malia leaned into her as they hobbled toward the door. "Thanks."

"No, seriously. You could've been killed. That thing— _animal_ — it was huge."

"I wasn't exactly measuring it. I just wanted to give you and Jackson a chance to get out."

"How are you so calm right now?"

Malia shrugged. "Maybe it's shock."

"Malia?" Danny was crossing the street, his car parked on the other side of the road, the door still open.

She let out a relieved sigh. "You called."

"Yeah, of course I did." He reached for her, a hand cupped beneath her elbow to keep her steady. "Jesus, are you bleeding?"

"Yeah, but it could be worse."

His eyes widened. " _How?_ "

Malia pointed a thumb over her shoulder. "I could be the dead guy inside the store."

His brow furrowed. "What?"

Erica piped in then. "Something attacked the clerk, clawed his throat out. He's dead. Malia distracted it while me and Jackson got out."

"Jackson's here, too?" Danny looked around, finally spotting his best friend crouched down next to Lydia, who was still sitting in her car, hyperventilating.

"It's okay," Malia told him. "You should check on him. He was pretty freaked out."

Danny hesitated a moment. "If you need me, shout."

"I will."

With a nod, Danny made his way over to Jackson, kneeling down and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Jackson looked up, startled, but immediately relaxed once he saw who it was.

"Who can tell me what happened here?" a police officer called out.

Erica raised a hand, drawing the officer over. The conversation was brief. Once he found out there was a body inside and that whatever attacked them had already taken off, he was on his radio, letting dispatch know there was a possible '187' before he made his way inside the store, gun and flashlight raised.

Malia could hear more sirens approaching. "Hey, can you grab my phone out? It's in my pocket."

Erica shifted around and dug the phone out for her. "Can you even use it?"

"Not really." Her arms were sore and moving hurt.

"Do you want me to call someone? Your dad maybe?"

Malia pursed her lips. "No, it's fine. There's a dead guy. Sheriff Stilinski will be here soon."

"Okay." Erica held the phone out. "Don't tell me you want a selfie."

Snorting, she shook her head. "Just open my messages. Find Cole, tell him I can't make it tonight and I'll explain later."

Nodding, she thumbed in the text and then held it out for Malia to see. Once it was approved, she sent it. "Anyone else?"

An ambulance pulled up then, two paramedics hopping out.

Lydia had finally left the car and was leaning against it, arms crossed, with Jackson and Danny standing on either side of her.

"She wasn't even inside," Erica muttered.

"Trauma's weird. Sometimes just seeing something can hit you just as hard." Malia let out a sigh. "Now I'm never going to see Easy A."

Erica shook her head. "You're so weird."

"Miss? I need to take a look at you." A paramedic stood in front of Malia, eyeing her wound with a frown. "How long have you been bleeding?"

"The correct answer to that question is always 'too long.'"

Erica helped lead Malia over to the back of the ambulance, sticking close to her as the paramedic went about asking questions and generally poking and prodding at her. It all ended up taking a lot longer than she wanted or expected it to. Enough that the parking lot of the video store had become full of cop cars and a small crowd was forming on the fringes, trying to see what was going on.

"What about you?" the paramedic asked Erica. "Were you inside, too?"

"Oh. Yeah, but I'm fine." She nodded nervously. "I just scraped my chin when I was knocked down. No real damage."

The paramedic glanced at her chin. "I can clean it out and bandage it up. Are you sure you didn't hit your head?"

"I don't think I did." Her brow furrowed. "I'd remember that, right?"

In a second ambulance, Jackson and Lydia were being tended to. Even from a distance, Malia could hear Jackson complaining that he was fine and wanted to leave.

"He hit his head," Erica told her. "Knocked it against the door when we fell."

Malia hummed. "He'll probably have his dad sue me for damaging his pretty face."

"It was really brave, you know…?" Erica stared up at her. "Jumping in the way like that."

"I think the word you're looking for is 'stupid.'"

Red and blue lights suddenly lit up Malia's peripheral vision and she turned her head to see a familiar car pull up, SHERIFF written on the door.

"Girls?" A police officer approached and looked from Malia to Erica. "I'd like to get your statements."

"I can go first," Erica offered.

Smiling briefly, the officer led Erica away.

Malia leaned back against the ambulance door, cringing as her side pulled.

"Malia?" a deep voice called out. Sheriff Stilinski cut toward her, his express twisted up in concern. "What the hell happened?"

"I went in for a romantic comedy, walked out with a headache." She shrugged. "Animal attack. It killed the clerk."

"What about you?" He rested a hand on her shoulder and looked her over. "Is that blood?"

"Yeah, well... Long story."

The paramedic cleared his throat then, drawing their attention. "She's going to need stitches," he informed them. "We have to bring her in."

"Or," Malia said, "just a thought, I put a Band-Aid on it and we call it a night."

With an amused half-smile, the paramedic shook his head. "Afraid not. From what you told me, I think what cut you was a piece of metal holding up the shelf. You're going to need a tetanus shot and a few stitches."

"No offense, because I know you're just doing your job, but that was the last thing I wanted to hear."

He shrugged lightly. "The sooner, the better."

"Yeah, yeah, all right." Turning back to Sheriff Stilinski, she sighed. "Erica's already making a statement. I guess I have to, too."

"I'll drop by the hospital and talk to you myself. How does that sound?"

"Fine. Hey, you think I can request a nurse or is that weird?"

Sheriff Stilinski snorted. "I'm sure Melissa will make an exception for you."

Heightened voices caught their attention then and Malia watched as Jackson continued to berate one of the paramedics. "I should check that out..." The Sheriff nodded to Malia's paramedic. "Take good care of her."

"I will."

Malia was ushered deeper into the ambulance, where a gurney was waiting for her. "Seriously? It's not even that bad."

"Standard protocol."

Sighing, Malia took a seat on the bed and turned herself over to lay on her back, staring at the ceiling as she was belted in. "Worst Saturday ever."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

On the roof of the video store, Scott stared down at the people below. A body was being wheeled out on a gurney while Jackson berated Sheriff Stilinski for not letting him go home with a potentially deadly head injury. A crowd had formed, trying to get a look at what happened, and the scent of blood was strong in the air.

Derek stood at Scott's shoulders, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. "Starting to get it?"

Scott shook his head. "I get that he's killing people, but I don't get _why_. I mean, this isn't— This isn't standard practice, right? We don't go out in the middle of the night murdering everyone, do we?"

"No. We're predators. We don't have to be killers."

"Then why is _he_ a killer?"

"That's what we're gonna find out."

"But…" Scott paused, his brow furrowed and his head cocked.

Derek stared at him. "What is it?"

"I… I smell something."

"Something familiar or strange?"

"No, I…" He stood abruptly, his eyes wide. " _Wildflowers_."

"What?"

"It's Malia. Her shampoo. She was here. She…" Scott started pacing. He extended his ears for the familiar sound of her heart but he couldn't find it. "It was her, I know it was, but I can't… I can't hear her heart."

"Scott, Malia isn't here." Derek reached for his shoulder, but Scott shrugged him off.

"I know her smell. I _know_ it. She was here!"

"Even if that's true," he allowed, "she isn't here now."

"What if she's hurt? Or-or dead? Or what if the alpha took her?" His eyes widened and his hands started shaking. He could feel his lungs squeezing and his nails elongating into claws.

"You need to calm down," Derek told him.

"I can't calm down!" Scott bent forward, pressing a hand to his chest, and shook his head. "I— I can't… I can't breathe."

"You're panicking and it's making you shift. You need to calm down and focus."

"I can't focus!" He snarled, baring his teeth at Derek.

Scott's lungs felt like there was a vice around them and he groaned, stumbling until he fell to one knee and dug his claws into the roof.

Derek walked toward him and crouched down. "Look, there's two ways to control a shift. An anchor and pain."

"A what?"

"If we weren't on a roof overlooking a murder scene, I'd break your wrist and the pain would snap you into focus. But if I do that, you're going to yell and draw attention to us. So instead, you need to focus on something else. Something that brings you peace. Something or some _one_ that makes you feel safe."

Scott stared at him through squinted eyes. He was having trouble understanding anything Derek was saying. He couldn't catch his breath, his chest ached, and his worry for Malia was making him feel dizzy. "I don't… I don't know." He swallowed tightly. "I…"

"— _don't want you to worry, but Malia was here earlier_ ," Sheriff Stilinski's voice floated to Scott's ears.

" _What?_ " Stiles exclaimed. " _What are you talking about? No. She— She had a thing. A non-date, non-movie related thing._ "

" _I don't know anything about that. What I do know is that Malia was at the store and according to the other two witnesses, she got in between an animal and them, giving them a chance to get out the door. Now, she was injured in the process—"_

" _Injured!? Injured how? Is she okay? Oh my god, is she dying? Is she dead?_ "

" _Stiles, calm down. Listen to me, son. Malia is okay. She's fine."_

At the same time that Stiles let out a loud sigh of relief, Scott was able to suck in a breath of air.

" _She cut her side open, something about a metal shelf. She's going to need stitches, so she's on the way to the hospital. But she's fine. I promise, okay? She'll live_."

" _Oh, thank God. I… I have to go. I have to see her._ "

" _Hold on. Give her some space. She's probably feeling overwhelmed and she just went through a serious trauma. Don't crowd her, okay? Try texting her, see if she's up for a visit_."

" _Yeah, yeah, of course_."

Sheriff Stilinski hummed, not sounding particularly convinced. " _I need to finish up here, but then I'm stopping by the hospital to get Malia's statement. Why don't you head home?_ "

" _Okay, I'll do that._ "

" _She's going to be okay. Don't look so worried._ "

Scott fell back to sit atop the roof, hands braced on either side of him, arms shaking. He looked up at Derek, his breathing coming easier now. "She's okay." She was alive, but it had been close. The alpha had hurt her and Scott had been nowhere in sight.

Derek stared at him searchingly. "I'll drive you to the hospital. You're gonna wanna see her for yourself."

He nodded, but his mind was elsewhere.

Standing, Derek tucked his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. "The next full moon is in a week. Some advice? Get this stuff figured out. Because the sooner you have an anchor, the safer everyone else is."

Scott frowned. "What if I can't find one?"

Derek rolled his eyes, turned on his heel, and walked away.

"Hey!" Scott climbed to his feet and chased after him. "That was a serious question!"

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Malia wondered if falling asleep was a bad idea. She was sprawled out on a bed in the ER, an arm tucked behind her head, her shirt cut open and a bandage covering half of her left side. The curtain around her bed was closed and as loud and busy as the hospital was, it all just sounded like background noise. She was tired and more than ready to take a nap. And then the curtain was abruptly thrown open.

"I was hoping I read the paperwork wrong." Melissa bustled inside. "Police are saying it was an animal attack. We've got a guy in the morgue that they tell me took the brunt of it."

"Yeah. The rest of us were lucky."

"You're about to get stitches, I don't know how lucky that is."

Malia snorted. "Luckier than him."

"Let's take a look at it." Melissa carefully moved Malia's shirt out of the way and peeled back the bandage. " _Ouch_."

"It doesn't hurt that much. Then again, I might still be hopped up on adrenaline."

Melissa nodded knowingly. "Gimme a minute to grab everything, all right?"

"Yeah, sure."

It took more than a few minutes. Given it was the ER, however, Malia wouldn't blame Melissa if she'd gotten distracted with another patient. Maybe it was the declining adrenaline, but Malia felt herself sinking back into that comfortable state where taking a nap was very much on the table. Her eyes were drifting closed just before Melissa returned.

"Okay!"

Malia jarred awake and blinked a few times, trying to shake off her lethargy.

Melissa pulled a stool up to the edge of the bed and had Malia lay herself straight and flat as she probed the cut. "So, the way I heard it, you got in the way of the attack. Even saved a few people."

"Hardly." Malia shook her head. "I knocked them down and then got T-boned by a bear."

"A _bear?_ "

"It was about as big as one..." She winced as Melissa's fingers pressed a little harder. "Did the paramedics check your ribs?"

"Yeah. They were fine. They said I'd probably have some serious bruising, but I'll heal. It's mostly just the cut they were worried about."

"I'll give you a tetanus shot and freeze your side while I put the stitches in." She patted Malia's hip. "You wanna talk about it?"

Malia swallowed. "I was scared. I mean, obviously I was scared. I found a dead guy in the comedy aisle. But, I tried to stay focused, you know? Erica and I hid— we had a plan. I'd distract it and she'd run for help. And then Jackson showed up, knocked over a ladder, and the whole plan just blew up in our face."

"Sounds scary."

"I wouldn't wanna do it again." She stared at the ceiling and frowned. "Did you call my dad?"

"I did." Melissa hesitated. "He didn't pick up. Front desk will keep calling, but..." She sighed. "Listen, I get off in an hour. Why don't you come home with me? I can keep an eye on you just in case and I'm sure it'll make Scott feel better if you were close."

She nodded, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. "Y-yeah, that's fine."

Melissa looked up, her expression soft and knowing. "If he knew, he'd be the first person here."

"I know." She clenched her teeth. "But he doesn't. So, he isn't."

Melissa found Malia's hand and squeezed. She didn't say anything— there wasn't really anything more to be said. Instead, Melissa refocused on getting Malia stitched up. It was a small mercy.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Dressed in thin, itchy hospital scrubs, Malia mourned the loss of her clothes, which Melissa had called time of death on, given the blood stains and tearing. She was scrolling through her phone when the door to her hospital room swung open. Melissa had found her a room with only one other patient, who might as well be comatose since she didn't seem to respond to any outside stimuli. Lowering her phone, Malia looked to the door, assuming it was Melissa, only to find a wild-eyed Stiles staring back at her, Scott right behind him.

"What the hell?!" Stiles marched toward her bed, his hands up. "What happened to the system? Green for good, yellow for panic, and red for danger. _Danger_ , Malia! Like, oh, I don't know, you're trapped inside a video store with a homicidal werewolf!"

"Whoa, keep it down!" She shushed him, glancing at the other occupant of the room, who hadn't so much as twitched. Looking back to Stiles, she said, "I was in panic mode, all right?"

"You still had time to text Danny!"

"I was texting Danny when I got to the video store. Texting him 911 meant that he'd be able to tell dispatch where the hell I was. Texting you would mean having to go into detail. It was just quicker."

He puts his hands on his hips and nodded. "And getting hurt, what was that?"

"Not planned." She shook her head. "I was trying to distract the alpha while Jackson and Erica got out, but it knew, so it chased them anyway."

He let out a high-pitched laugh. "So, you threw yourself in front of it like a sacrificial lamb?"

"Best case scenario, he jumped right over us after I tackled them. That wasn't exactly what happened though..."

Dragging a hand over his face, he groaned. "Well? What happened? Did it scratch you? Are you...?" He looked away and then back. "Did it bite you?"

" _No_." Her eyes widened. "When we collided, I flew into the wall. This—" She motioned to her side. "—was from that. It didn't scratch or bite me. It just... It pinned me to the floor. I couldn't breathe. But then the police were coming and it spooked. Jumped out the window, scared the hell out of Lydia, and took off."

Stiles crossed his arms, narrowed his eyes, and tapped his foot. "All right, let's see it."

"Seriously?" With a sigh, Malia shuffled up the bed a little, pulled her hospital issue top out from under her, and raised it up over the bandage. Carefully, she peeled back the edge, wincing as she did, and showed them the jagged mark along her ribs. "Four stitches. Melissa put them in. It looks worse than it is."

"It doesn't look great." Stiles leaned in, bracing himself on the bed, and took a closer look. "You're _sure_ it wasn't a bite?"

She nodded and flattened the bandage back dowon. "I'm sure."

He rubbed a hand over his forehead and stepped back. "It was still stupid and reckless and seriously dangerous. Why— Why couldn't Jackson be the bait? O-or you just all make a break for it?"

She stared at him knowingly. "Because I knew what it was. And you really think Jackson's going to put his life on the line for me and someone he doesn't even know?"

Stiles pursed his lips. "What was it even doing there? Of all the people the alpha could kill, it picks some random video store clerk? I don't get it. _Why?_ "

She shook her head. "I don't know." Dropping her gown back in place, she leaned deeper into the pillow behind her head and sighed. "How'd you guys know I was here?"

"My dad. I was on the scene, but I didn't see you. He let me know what happened after he had a blow out with Jackson about letting him leave when he had a head injury. _Idiot_. Dad's gonna drop by soon to get your statement."

"Yeah, he mentioned that."

"So, what happens now? Are you discharged?"

Malia shook her head. "I'm a minor. They tried calling my dad, but he isn't picking up. Melissa said I could come back to her place; her shift should be over soon. She's listed as one of my emergency contacts, so I guess it's fine." Malia's gaze wandered to Scott then. He was being unusually quiet. Standing at the end of the bed, his arms crossed, he was staring at her side, directly where her stitches were.

The door swung open again, this time admitting Sheriff Stilinski, who sighed at his son. "Why am I not surprised? Didn't I ask you to give her some space? She had to get stitches and she's been through a traumatic event."

"Which is exactly why I _should_ be here," Stiles argued. "She needs support and a very stern conversation about when not to play the hero."

Sheriff Stilinski rolled his eyes and approached the bed. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

Malia half-smiled. "Kind of regretting I said 'no' to those pain meds."

He snorted and raised a clip board. "I need to take your statement on what happened. Are you up for it?"

Malia nodded. "Yeah, sure."

He glanced at the boys. " _Alone_. You guys can wait in the hall."

Stiles pulled a face. "What, like her memory is going to change because we're here?"

" _Out_."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles muttered irritably under his breath, but cut toward the door.

"Scott, that means you, too." Sheriff Stilinski nudged Scott's shoulder.

With a jerk, Scott blinked, looked up, and then abruptly made his way to the door. Sheriff Stilinski stared after him a moment, frowning. "Is he all right?"

Malia shrugged. "It's been a weird night."

"Scott wasn't there, was he?"

"Nope. Just me, Erica, Jackson, and a dead clerk." She frowned. "Well, us and the animal that killed him."

"So, it _was_ an animal?"

"Definitely."

He nodded thoughtfully. "All right. Let's take it from the top..."

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Melissa's shift ran late, but eventually, Malia found herself at the McCall house. "I can sleep on the couch. _Really_. It's comfortable and I don't mind."

"You have stitches. You're not sleeping on the couch. Scott will." Melissa shrugged off her jacket and pointed to the stairs. "It's late, it's been a long day, I think we all need a good night's sleep."

Malia hesitated a moment, but eventually made her way to the stairs. Each step jarred her side a little, making her wince, but she made the climb. Maybe slower than usual, but nobody seemed to notice. Then again, a wiped out Melissa looked like she was probably going to pass out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

When Malia reached Scott's room, she didn't even bother turning the light on. Instead, she sat on the edge of his bed gingerly, her hands braced on her knees as she let out a shaky breath. She wasn't kidding before, she really did wish she'd agreed to those pain meds. She was feeling the after-effects of not just the stitches, but hitting the wall. Her entire body felt like one giant bruise.

Scott lingered by the door.

"You're being weird," she told him. "Quiet and weird."

He moved to his dresser, dug out some clothes, and passed off a long shirt and a pair of shorts to her before he disappeared into his bathroom to change.

Frowning to herself, Malia stood, exchanging the hospital scrubs for Scott's clothes. She left hers bundled up in a pile on the floor and then retook her seat on the bed, sliding back to lean against the headboard, pillows stacked behind her. She stretched her legs out and crossed them at the ankle. She wasn't sure why she was feeling nervous. Maybe because he was being unnaturally stoic and detached. It was throwing her off. Was he mad at her? Usually, she could read Scott pretty well.

There was a knock from the bathroom door then.

Clearing her throat, she said, "All decent on this end."

Scott walked out, his own clothes clutched in his hands. He tossed them toward his laundry basket and then lingered.

Malia wanted to say something— she could feel words crowding her throat, but nothing came out.

And then, abruptly, he turned on his heel and left. Walking right out the door without a word, he was just there and gone.

Malia felt his absence like a punch to the gut. This wasn't like him. With Scott, even if he was upset with her, he expressed it somehow. But ever since the hospital, he'd been blank. And she hated it.

Sinking down against the bed, she shuffled around until she was on her back. Pulling the blanket up to her chin, she stared at the ceiling, and hated that her eyes were burning. Overwhelmed was an understatement. The last two days had been hell. Between Derek almost dying, the intensity at the Argent house, the alpha attack, and now Scott's brush off, she was feeling all of it like a giant weight on her chest. Her lip quivered and she bit down on it to try to cut off the suddenly desperate need to just _cry_. It wouldn't solve anything. It wouldn't make what happened any different. But it was there— burning her throat and filling her eyes. She dug her heels into the bed and sucked in a breath through her nose, holding it until her lungs ached. She closed her eyes and willed the tears back.

 _Creak_.

The door opened an inch and Malia looked.

Scott walked back into the room, holding a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. He unscrewed the top and poured a few into his palm, holding them and the water out for her.

Malia sat up, wincing at the pull against her side. She popped the pills into her mouth and took the glass, swallowing half of it in a few deep gulps. When she was done, she swiped her wrist over her mouth to dry it and put the glass on the bedside table. She watched him out of the corner of her eyes, curious but unsure. He was still being strange— too quiet and still and distant.

He lingered next to the bed a moment, before making his way to the door again.

Panic filled her stomach. "Scott?" she whispered.

He stopped.

She wasn't sure what she wanted or needed or even what she was hoping for, but when he reached out and closed his door, she felt relieved.

He walked back to the bed, circled around to the other side, and climbed in. When he pulled the blanket up, cool air rushed in and she shivered. But then he was there, just inches away, and the heat coming off his body sunk into her own. She laid down again, turning onto her good side, and resting her head on her arm, curved atop the pillow.

Scott turned over too, facing her. Only he wouldn't meet her eyes, staring at her chin instead.

"Hey… Talk to me."

"You could've died tonight." His voice was thick and raspy. "That's the second time in less than a month. Third if you count when the alpha chased you in the woods."

"You can't take responsibility for what some asshole alpha does."

He looked up then and met her eyes, his brow furrowed. "I'm not."

She frowned, unconvinced.

"I'm not," he insisted. "I just… I was at the video store with Derek."

"You were?"

"Not when it was happening, but after. He wanted to show me what happened, what the alpha is doing, I guess. But I caught this scent, like wildflowers. And I knew it was you. I knew you were _hurt_. And I… I couldn't breathe. It was like before, when I had asthma, only worse. I couldn't catch my breath and I was shifting and I didn't know what to do. Derek kept saying that it was in my head, that you were fine. But, I didn't believe it, not until I heard Stiles' dad tell him you were at the hospital, that you needed stitches, but you were gonna be fine."

Malia reached out, her hand finding his in the space between them. "Okay, so, you panicked. It happens."

He shook his head.

"Scott…" She smiled reassuringly. "You think I wasn't freaking out in the store? I found a guy with his throat torn out and I knew that the alpha was still in there. I was terrified. But if I focused on getting Erica and Jackson out, it was different. I could do what I had to do."

"Almost get yourself killed?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Tell me you wouldn't do the same thing."

He sighed.

"All I'm saying is that it's okay to get scared sometimes. We all are. We don't know what we're doing. Not with the werewolf stuff or the alpha or any of it. We're just walking into it blind and hoping for the best."

"It's more than that…" He looked away. "I wasn't there. I couldn't do anything."

"You can't be everywhere."

"I want to." He squeezed her hand. "If something worse happened… If I lost you, I…"

"You're not going to lose me."

"How do you _know?_ It's like you said, we don't know what we're doing or what's coming or who'll get hurt."

"Scott—" She stopped, her brow furrowed.

"What?"

She looked down. "I… I don't feel anything."

"Huh?"

Malia pushed the blanket back and looked at Scott's hand folded in her own. Dark veins rippled up Scott's hand and along his forearm. "Are you…? What is that?"

He looked down, his brow furrowed. "Uh…"

Malia let go of his hand and the veins abruptly stopped. Slowly, she felt the pain come back. It was distant, not quite as heavy as before, but it was there. That dull throbbing along her side and the weight in her chest. She reached out and took his hand again. "Can you repeat it?"

"I- I don't know what I was doing."

Her mouth scrunched up. "I think you were taking my pain."

"How much pain are you in?" he worried. "Are you sure it's me? Maybe it was the ibuprofen?"

"No, it wouldn't kick in that quick. I think it's you." She squeezed his hand. "Just, I don't know, recreate what you were doing before."

His shoulders hiked. "I wasn't doing anything. I was talking to you."

She nodded. "You were worrying about me."

"I'm always worried about you." He frowned. "Well, not always, but a lot more lately."

"Okay, well, what makes this time different?"

He shrugged. "You're actually hurt this time and I'm mad that I didn't stop it. That I have these stupid abilities that I barely understand and the one time they might actually help, I wasn't there."

Her fingers flexed along the top of his. "Scott… You can't blame yourself for that. You didn't even know."

"That's the problem! If there's one good thing that's come out of any of this, it's that maybe I'm strong enough to be there for you. For Stiles and my mom and everyone. My whole life, I was just the asthmatic kid who couldn't stack up. And now I can. Only I don't know when the next attack will be or who the target is. And the idea that you might get caught in the crossfire again makes me _crazy_. Because I… I need you to be okay. I need you to be safe."

Malia softened. "You don't need werewolf strength to be there for me. The only reason any of this stuff matters, the strength and the speed and everything, is because it's a part of you now. But you've always been enough."

Scott opened his mouth to say something, but paused. He looked down at their joined hands and his eyes widened. "I think you're right about the pain thing."

Malia followed his gaze and watched as those dark lines moved along his arms once more. "Does it hurt?"

"Not really. I mean, I can feel something, but… I can handle it."

"The ibuprofen will kick in soon. You don't have to."

"I know." He looked up at her. "I want to."

Malia shook her head, touched.

"Were you really scared?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "After I hit the wall, I couldn't breathe. It knocked the air right out of me. It sucked, but it's happened before. That didn't scare me. But when the alpha was standing over me, when it cut my air off on purpose, _that_ scared me. Because it was intentional. It wasn't like this mindless animal was just attacking whoever was in sight. It was like it was testing me or playing with me or something. And for a second, I really thought I was going to die like that." She licked her lips, finding them dry and chapped. "It was different in the woods, when it was me and you. Even though I was scared of you, a part of me still knew that you were in there and you wouldn't hurt me. But the alpha… It had no reason not to kill me."

Scott tapped her hand with his thumb. "You're shaking."

She turned her head to look at him. "It's dumb. I'm alive and I'm not even that banged up."

"It's not dumb." He pulled on her hand, drawing her closer.

Before Malia knew it, she was hugging him, her cheek pressed to his chest and her arm hooked around his waist as she laid on her side, tucked against him. His arm folded across her back, fingers pressed to the nape of her neck. She closed her eyes as he kissed the top of her head. And the tears of before, when she laid alone, staring at the ceiling, wishing he'd come back, suddenly swamped her again.

"Erica…" Her voice gave out for a second and she had to swallow to bring it back. "Erica said I was brave, but… I don't feel brave."

"You are." His fingers coiled in her hair. "Brave doesn't mean you can't be scared, too."

Malia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could feel herself shaking and she hated it. Hated that her weakness was so obvious, that he could feel it too. That she couldn't keep that fine tremble from spreading itself through her entire frame. Couldn't keep the tears from her eyes or swallow the strangled cry trapped in her throat. She gripped him a little tighter and buried her face against his chest. "Don't let go," she whispered.

His voice was muffled against the top of her head, but his words were strong and sincere. "I won't."

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other, until Malia eventually drifted off to sleep with his heart beating steady under her ear and his fingers gently combing through her hair. While the terror of the attack was nowhere near forgotten, with Scott there, Malia had never felt safer.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

It was late, or incredibly early, depending on your outlook, when Malia suddenly woke. She blinked into the muted blue of Scott's room, the space next to her no longer occupied. Scott was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing the heel of his hand against one eye.

She reached out and plucked at the back of his shirt. "What're you doing?"

"I gotta go downstairs. Mom'll notice if I'm not on the couch."

She hummed, her eyes at half-mast. "What time's it?" she mumbled.

He looked back at her, smiling fondly. "Early." He reached out and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. "Go back to sleep."

" _Hmph_."

"You feel okay? Did the ibuprofen work?"

"Yeah. That or your little healing trick helped. I feel okay. Still a little stiff, but not like I was pancaked into a wall."

He snorted. "What about your stitches?"

"They're good." She tipped her head back against the pillow and looked up at him from under her lashes. "Worrywart."

He shook his head, smiling to himself, and stood from the bed. "You need anything?"

"Your body-heat. I'm _cold_."

Scott frowned. "I can get you another blanket or some socks. Will that help?"

"Scott, I'm teasing. I'm fine, seriously. You don't have to baby me."

"I'm not babying you." He crossed his arms. "I just want to take care of you."

Malia felt a tightness in her throat. She blamed it on the lingering affects of sleep. "You already have. I was super emotional last night and… it helped. You being here. It made me feel better."

"Good." He grinned, his eyebrows raised. "It made me feel better, too."

She smothered a smile. "Are you gonna be here when I wake up?"

"You should sleep in. If I'm not here, I'm at Stiles'. Call me when you wake up, let me know how you're feeling."

"Sure."

He hovered by the end of the bed for a long moment, and then he walked closer. He bent down, his eyes searching hers, and Malia felt her heartbeat slowly increase. Her hands tightened around the fabric of the blanket the closer he got. Until— a kiss found her forehead, warm and gentle. Malia closed her eyes and let out a quiet breath.

"I'm glad you're okay."

When he leaned back, she opened her eyes. "Me, too."

Nodding, he murmured, "Night."

"Night."

Malia watched him leave, carefully closing the door behind him. Once he was gone, she turned her gaze to the ceiling and shook her head. One of these days, she was going to stop waiting for something that just wasn't going to happen.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _i want to again touch on the length of the chapter. this one was also incredibly long. i've noticed a decline in reviews and i'm wondering if that has something to do with it or if it's something else...?_

 _i was actually really excited for us to get to this chapter, because i had the video store attack planned out in my head for ages. malia makes the executive decision to get erica and jackson out and to use herself as bait of sorts, which is a very malia thing to do. she's not planning on fighting the alpha, just keeping him distracted. whereas i think the malia we know in canon, who is aware she's a werecoyote, would absolutely take on the alpha one on one. this was a way to show that same personality trait in her as a human while acknowledging her own limitations._

 _i really enjoyed writing the reaction scenes from both scott and stiles regarding malia being injured. stiles is very frantic with his dad and then very irritated with malia which, in my opinion, has a sibling like vibe to it. scott, on the other hand, had a panic attack, and then when he did see her, he shut down. he was lost in his head and thinking about all the ways he felt he'd failed her, and it wasn't until they were alone that he was able to voice those thoughts and share that feeling with her. and again, we see the idea of anchors threaded throughout everything, with derek making it clear he already thinks scott unknowingly he has one and is definitely getting tired of these oblivious teenagers, lol_

 _also, i did hide two nods toward something that tie into a bigger thread and i'm really curious to see if any of you have picked up on it. it was carefully touched on in the last two chapters, so as not to be too obvious, but it's there. ;)_

 _finally, there is now a character page on my tumblr ( **sarcasticfina** ) for the tate family. just visit my url and add **/tates** to the end to see it! _

**things to look forward to next chapter** _: a ton of friendship- malia/allison, malia/danny, malia/erica; concerned!derek; allison learns a little more about scott and his friendship with malia; parent teacher interviews get complicated. :)_

 _thanks so much for reading, please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	15. the tell 2

**word count** : 12,156  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : 1x05 - the tell

* * *

 **XV**

Malia woke up groggy, her mouth dry. She blinked crusty eyes upward, gauging how much light was coming in through the window, and then sighed. As much as she wanted to roll over and go right back to sleep, she knew she shouldn't. Kicking the blanket off, she carefully sat up, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a hand against her stitches as she felt them pull. Hissing, she squeezed her eyes shut and took a moment to let the pain fade. Her body felt achy, like when she'd go running for too long and hadn't stretched properly beforehand. Pushing off the bed, she swayed a little and willed her knees not to give out on her. When they didn't, she started for the door, bracing a hand against the wall as she walked down the hallway to the stairs. Grimacing, she gingerly made her way down. She could hear noise, so someone was home. The couch was empty and Scott's jacket was missing from the hook by the door, meaning he'd probably taken off for Stiles'.

The scent of food wafted over and Malia followed it to Melissa, who was cooking up a breakfast feast.

"Sausages..." Malia sighed appreciatively.

With a snort, Melissa grinned at her. "And hash browns and eggs and—" _Pop!_ "—toast." Tossing a hand towel over her shoulder, Melissa nodded toward the table. "Sit down. I'll bring it out. You want orange juice or milk?"

"Milk. For my weak bones." Malia shuffled over to the table and took a seat, tucking one of her legs under her. She swiped her phone open and checked the time—10:11 am. She had texts from Cole, Danny, and an unknown number waiting for her.

She opened Cole's first. —' _hey, no worries about last night. i heard there was some weird attack at the video store. was that you? are you okay?'_

Malia sighed. Apparently, word got around quick. She thumbed back a reply. —' _i'm fine. just a few stitches. it was weird. rain check?'_

She opened the unknown's number then. The first read —' _i didn't get a chance to talk to you after i gave my statement. just want to see if you're okay_ ' Followed by—' _it's erica, btw. got your number from danny_ '

Without answering, Malia checked Danny's texts, of which there were a few. —' _hey, so jackson's going to be fine. they don't think he has a concussion. lydia's pretty messed up about it. I think she's in shock or something.'_

— _'i'm sorry i didn't stick around. i feel like a dick! you were bleeding, i should've stayed.'_

— _'the freshman that was with you, i think her name's erica? she asked for your phone number. i gave it to her. she said she wanted to check up on you. she also said you basically saved her and jackson... he said something similar._

— _'well, not in so many words... but it was implied'_

— _'can you text me when you get this so i can stop worrying that i left you to bleed out?'_

Malia smiled to herself. —' _hey, stop worrying. i'm all stitched up and will have a gnarly scar to show off later. and I didn't save anyone. i'm surprised jackson's not pissed that i pushed him over_.'

—' _he is. he said you almost broke his nose_.' Danny sent a smiling emoji. —' _pictures or it never happened_.'

Shifting on her chair, she pulled up her shirt and peeled back her bandage, wincing as it pulled at her skin. Snapping a picture of it, she sent it to Danny and then smoothed the bandage back down.

"Should I even ask?" Melissa wondered, bringing over a plate of food and a tall glass of milk.

"Just Danny. He wanted to see my stitches." She tucked her shirt back down and dropped her phone on the table. "You're eating too, right?"

"Yeah, I just ran out of hands to carry everything." She put Malia's food down in front of her before turning on her heel and walking back to the kitchen.

Malia's phone buzzed.

Danny had sent her a shocked emoji and —' _gross. did they give you the good meds?_ '

She plucked up a sausage and bit off one end. —' _they offered but it didn't really hurt at the time. i regret turning them down._ '

—' _i'm no drug mule but i might have some t3s somewhere_.'

Malia snorted. —' _it's fine. i'll live. but thanks!_ '

"Who's Danny?" Melissa wondered as she joined Malia at the table.

"A friend. He's just checking in." She put her phone face down on the table. "How was your sleep?"

"Doesn't matter how many hours I get, I always want a few more." Melissa smiled at her. "Yours?"

"Good."

"Was that before or after Scott snuck back down to the couch?"

Malia paused, a fork full of hash browns hovering just short of her mouth. "Uh..."

Melissa raised an eyebrow. "Do we need to have a conversation about safe sex?"

"No! _Nooo_..." Malia shook her head. "It was totally innocent. I was just... upset and feeling really emotional and he _hugged_ me, that's it."

Melissa stared at her a long moment, brow furrowed skeptically.

"Seriously, he's dating Allison and we are not..." The words got stuck in her throat, jumbled together.

"Not what?"

"I... We don't... _He_..." Malia frowned. "He doesn't have those feelings for me."

Melissa hummed as she cut up her eggs and folded them onto her hash browns, letting the yolk run over them. "You remember when you and Scott became friends? You were ten years old and you, Scott, and Stiles were thick as thieves."

Malia nodded. "Yeah."

"But there was that little while before that, where you and Scott just didn't click. I think you were both scared Stiles liked the other one better. Anyway, I remember when that changed. I remember Scott pestering me all of Friday and Saturday. He said he _had_ to go see this movie— he was so dramatic, he said it was life or death." Her smile was warm and fond. "And I asked him why he needed me, why he couldn't just ride his bike into town if it was that important. And he said that he needed to pick _you_ up. That Stiles was sick and it was usually Noah that would drive out and get you. And I was so busy that weekend, I had back-to-back shifts, so I told him I just couldn't do it. You know Scott, he never wants to be a burden on anyone, so he dropped it. Or I thought he did. But then I saw him trying to map out all the times and routes that the busses take, and he was counting up his allowance so that he could pay for your bus fare, and... He was just trying so hard. I asked him why it had to be now, why this weekend, and he said he'd called the theater and it was the last week the movie was playing and that you really loved it. So, I called the hospital, I shifted some things around, and I told him I'd bring you guys to the movie. And he just— he _lit up_. He was so happy. And later, when he called me from the ice cream shop, and he said you were ready to be picked up, I knew something had changed. That you guys had finally connected outside of Stiles." She paused for a moment before saying, "He still lights up. When he talks about you or he sees you. You are one of the most important people in Scott's life and... I don't know. I don't know what his feelings are. But I know that, romantic or not, you two have a bond that not a lot of people find."

"I know and I'm grateful for that. I don't expect him to feel differently just because I do." She shook her head. "I just want him to be happy."

"I think he'd want you to be happy, too."

Malia stabbed a sausage with her fork. "I'm working on it."

"Good." Melissa nodded. "After breakfast, you should have a shower. It'll help loosen up your muscles and you won't feel so sore. And I want to check your stitches out before you leave, all right?"

Malia nodded. Between breakfast and Melissa's mothering, Malia was happy to soak up the feeling of being cared for.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia sat on the edge of Scott's bed in a pair of his sweat pants and a t-shirt, her legs folded, and her damp hair tied in a lopsided knot. She thumbed Allison's name in her contacts and raised the phone to ear.

"Hey! Did something happen last night? I got this weird text from Lydia that makes no sense. Something about the movie store and Jackson. It was strange…"

"Uh... Yeah, actually." She drummed her fingers against her knee. "There was an attack at the video store. Lydia was there, more a witness than anything. Jackson hit his head, but I guess he's fine."

"What kind of attack?"

"The animal variety. Like that bus driver, I guess. It broke into the video store and killed the clerk." She paused. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell Allison what had happened, just that she worried how the event might look to her dad and her aunt. But she also knew that eventually, the news was going to spread and it would look stranger if she didn't tell Allison. "It'll probably be all over Facebook or something soon, so just a head's up, I was there. It sucked. And I have the stitches to prove it."

" _Stitches?_ Oh my God, are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's fine. I was mostly attacked by a shelf. Scott's mom stitched me up at the hospital last night and she checked them this morning, they're holding. I'm banned from moving around too much, so we might have to skip gymnastics for a little while. But I'll heal."

"Wow, this is... I don't even know. I mean, I'm glad you're okay. And Jackson and Lydia, too. I feel bad for the clerk, though."

"Yeah, same." She tapped her fingers against her knee. "Anyway, I'm bored and I want to get that essay out of the way. So, if you're still up for it...?"

"Absolutely. Are you at the hospital still or…?"

"Nope, I was discharged. I'm at Scott's."

"Oh. If you text me the address, I can come pick you up."

"Cool. See you soon."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

The radio was playing on low as Malia and Allison cruised down the road, en route to Malia's house.

"I still can't believe you were tackled by some wild animal. That's just crazy."

Malia shrugged. "It didn't feel great."

"What do you think it was?"

"Probably a mountain lion or something. By the time it attacked, the lights were out, I couldn't really see what it looked like."

Allison shook her head. "That's like right out of a horror movie."

"Yeah, it kinda felt that way, too." Malia looked ahead, to a sign for the upcoming convenience store. "Hey, do you mind if we stop in there? I need to grab a couple things."

"Sure." Allison flipped her blinker and turned off the main road to pull the SUV to a stop in front of the store.

Malia unclipped her seatbelt. "I'll just be a minute."

"Are you sure you don't want help?" Allison worried. "Should you be carrying things?"

Malia nodded. "I'm fine, seriously. I'll be quick. It's not even anything heavy."

"Okay…" Allison looked skeptical, but didn't undo her belt.

Hopping out, made her way inside. She needed to pick up some food for Shiloh, but she also grabbed a bag of her favorite Doritos and a Gatorade as she went. Bringing it up to the front, she searched around, wondering if Erica had come in for work today. When springy blonde hair appeared behind the till, she smiled. "Survived an animal attack and back to work already. They should give you a raise."

Erica snorted. "I'll let them know you said so." She started ringing up Malia's groceries. "I texted you."

"I thought it'd be easier if we talked in person. Considering how weird everything was last night and how fast it all happened..."

"It _was_ weird, yeah." She nodded. "But you're okay?"

"Mostly. You?"

"I'm good." Erica paused. "I had a nightmare last night. More than one, actually. I kept waking up and then when I'd fall back asleep... _nightmare._ "

"What about?"

"Being chased, mostly. I could feel it right behind me, catching up. Then it changed. I..." She swallowed. "Last night, I saw it standing over you in the store. I mean, I didn't really see _it_ , just this big, furry _thing_ , and it was right next to you. And I thought... I thought you were dead or it was going to kill you. But I just stood there. I didn't do anything. And in my dream, it killed you. Then, in another dream, I was the one it killed and you watched." She shook her head. "Dreams are weird."

"So is trauma." Malia stared at her. "I didn't expect you to come charging into the store and take on some... _mountain lion_ to save my life."

"But _you_ did. You saved me and Jackson—"

"I pushed you," she interrupted. "I— I made a _risky_ plan and when it didn't go right, I shoved you guys into a door. I'm lucky you didn't break through the glass and get seriously injured." She shifted her weight to her other foot, feeling awkward and nervous. "Look, all I'm saying is that I'm not a hero and you're not a coward for not coming back. It all happened over a few seconds. Nobody can blame you for being scared."

"Maybe. But when you were scared, you did something."

Malia shook her head. "That could've got us hurt." She paid her balance and hooked a hand in the grocery bag. "All I'm saying is that you can't blame yourself for something that I don't even blame you for. It was a freak attack that probably won't happen again. Give yourself a break."

Erica sighed, but nodded. "Yeah, all right."

"I've gotta go— homework. But, I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Yeah, sure." Erica waved.

Malia half-smiled and then turned on her heel and left. She wasn't sure why, but the conversation left her feeling weird. Maybe it was just the idea that Erica saw her as some kind of hero when that wasn't at all how she saw herself. Or maybe it was that she was aware she was keeping some pretty serious details of the attack to herself, like the fact that it definitely wasn't a mountain lion that had attacked them. But, as much as she liked Erica, she couldn't tell her what was really in that store, what had nearly hurt or even killed her.

When Malia returned to the SUV, Allison was frowning down at her phone.

"Everything okay?"

"Huh?" Allison looked up, blinked, and then nodded. "Oh, yeah. Just... Kate. She wants to make plans with me and I keep avoiding her. Which I can't do forever, obviously. It's just..." She put the SUV in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. "Don't make a big deal about it or anything, but tomorrow is my birthday..." She glanced at Malia nervously. "I'm turning seventeen."

"You cradle robber," Malia said blandly.

Allison snorted. "Shut up. I just always get really dumb questions about why I'm a year older."

"It's not that hard to figure out." Malia sunk back in her seat. "Your family moves around a lot."

"Exactly." She sighed, relieved. "I just, I don't know. I always feel weird about it."

"Have you told anyone?"

"No. Just you." She shrugged. "Obviously, Kate knows and she wants us to do something, but... I'm still mad at her."

"What do you usually do on your birthday?"

"Just spend it with family." She shook her head. "I've never really had friends long enough or close enough that I wanted to spend it with them."

"And now?"

Allison bit her lip. "I mean... would _you_ want to do something?"

"Sure." Malia grinned. "But what would a senior citizen like yourself even want to do? Lawn bowling? Pool aerobics? Feed ducks in the park?"

Laughing, Allison rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

"All right, all right. Leave it to me. We'll find something to do, I promise."

"Okay." Allison struggled to hide how wide her smile was growing. "Cool."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

A couple hours later, Malia sat in her desk chair, legs extended in front of her, groaning. "I hate essays."

Sitting on the bed, her back against a stack of pillows, Allison looked up. "How far are you?"

"If I had to bring math into it— and you know I hate to— maybe like 70 percent."

"You're almost done then!"

"Yeah, but that's pre-editing and second guessing everything I've said." Malia slumped and then winced, her side pulling. "Shit." She sat up and pressed a hand against her side. Every time she moved too much, she felt a tugging sensation and worried that she'd pulled her stitches out. Drawing her shirt up, she checked that the bandage still seemed relatively clean and wasn't soaked through with blood.

Putting her books aside, Allison shuffled down the bed to sit at the very end. She looked at Malia searchingly. "Does it hurt?"

"Not all the time." She dropped her shirt back down. "Getting the stitches was worse. Melissa's great, but there's something about knowing a needle is moving in and out of your skin that throws you off a bit."

Chewing her lip, Allison nodded. "Can... Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Hospitals are required to call your parents, right? Because you're a minor." At Malia's nod, she said, "But you stayed the night at Scott's and I guess I'm just wondering... Where was your dad?"

Malia went still. Her first instinct was to lie or make up an excuse. To tell Allison that her dad was out of town or that it was easier staying with Melissa, who was a nurse. But she stopped herself from tossing out an easy lie. She and Allison were friends and, well, as much as she had to lie about certain things, there were others that she didn't. Not if she didn't want to. "They tried calling him. But, uh, I guess he didn't hear the phone, 'cause he never answered. Melissa is listed as an emergency contact, so they let me go home with her."

"You can do that? List someone who isn't related to you as an emergency contact?" Her brow furrowed. "And they can just let you go?"

Malia paused. Her history with her dad was, well, _complicated_ , and not something she liked to think about for too long. "A few years ago, my dad wasn't doing so good and... Melissa looked out for me… My dad's not mean. He's never hurt me, not physically or anything like that. It's not... I mean, there was this lady— a social worker or whatever— she said that it was like, mental abuse or something. That neglect still qualified." Malia shook her head. "But it wasn't like that. He was just... _lost_. Anyway, I told her she was wrong and he wasn't a bad person and that we were okay. I don't think she believed me, but she didn't take me, so there's that... But, I talked to Melissa about it and she talked to my dad. I don't know what she said, but the next thing I knew, I was staying at the McCall house for a few weeks and when I got home, it was different. We had groceries and the house was clean and dad was talking to me again. He just had a break down, you know? It's not like it was before, when my mom was alive. I don't think it'll ever be like that again. But for a little while, he was doing okay."

Allison didn't reply right away and the silence felt especially loud. Humiliation and discomfort started to grow inside Malia, swelling inside her chest and chewing away at her stomach.

Finally, Allison asked, "And now?"

"Now... He still does all the basic stuff— we always have food and the house stays pretty clean. And I think he wants to be involved. I think he cares. He just... He doesn't always remember."

"Remember what?"

Malia swallowed tightly. "Me."

Allison reached out, her hand finding Malia's; she folded their fingers together. "That's gotta be hard."

"Sometimes." Malia shook her head, attempting a smile. "I do okay, though. I stay pretty busy."

"You shouldn't have to." Allison stared at her searchingly. "But Scott's mom, she helps, right?"

"Yeah. Always. That's why she's the emergency contact. She'll always pick up."

Nodding, Allison sighed. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"You shouldn't have to go through that... You lost them, too."

Malia wanted to crack a joke. She wanted to relieve the tension somehow. But her throat tightened and her eyes burned and she just couldn't find it in her to make light of the situation. So, when Allison stood from the bed and gathered her into a hug, Malia let her. And that burning humiliation of before died, replaced by the relief that came with Allison's unconditional support.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Later that afternoon, Malia and Allison sat across from each other in a diner— because cheap, greasy food was a necessary reward after getting their essays done early.

Malia rested her back against the wall, her legs stretched out along the bench seat, while she picked at a plate of fries. "Have you heard from Lydia at all?"

"No." Allison shook her head. "I've tried calling and texting, but she's not picking up. I'm kind of worried."

"She was pretty freaked out. Maybe she just needs some time to process."

"Maybe..." Allison took a sip of her strawberry milkshake. "Why do you think you weren't?"

"Weren't what?"

"Freaked out as much. I mean, it actually attacked you." Allison stared at her searchingly. "Shouldn't you be _more_ traumatized?"

Malia shrugged. "Depends on the person, I guess. I grew up right next to the preserve while Lydia grew up in a suburb. Different experiences."

"Yeah, I don't know. I don't think I'd be as calm."

"Let's hope you never have to find out." Malia brought her own milkshake closer and swirled her straw around. "So, what do you want to do for your birthday?"

"I don't know. I usually go shopping and out for dinner and then gorge on cake."

"Yes, _cake!_ " Malia's eyes lit up. "Do you like ice cream cake?"

Allison grinned. "Duh."

"Okay, so, what else? What do you want? Like, gift wise."

"I don't know." Allison shrugged. "It's _super_ cheesy, but actually having people to spend my birthday with is sort of my biggest birthday wish."

"You're right, it's totally cheesy." Malia smirked. "You're a giant dork. But it's okay, I'll still be your friend."

Rolling her eyes, Allison laughed. "Whatever. I mean it."

"I know." Swiveling around in her seat to face her better, Malia dunked a fry into Allison's milkshake and winked at her. "We'll make it a memorable one."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After dinner, Allison dropped Malia back at her house. Seeing her dad's truck outside, she took a deep breath and made her way inside. She wondered how angry he'd be that he found out about the hospital late. That she'd been injured and she didn't come home. That she ended up relying on Melissa instead. A part of her was even looking forward to a reaction. Was it weird to think that maybe this could be the push he needed to really buckle down? That maybe something this serious could kick him into gear again. He'd been making progress, bit by bit, but sometimes she wondered if it wasn't one step forward, two steps back. It wasn't as bad as when she was younger, but it wasn't exactly good either.

Making her way inside, she shrugged off her jacket and toed out of her boots. The TV was playing in the background and the lights were on in the living room. Walking closer to the couch, she spotted him. Sprawled out on his back, empty beer cans on the floor. Whatever reaction Malia was expecting, this wasn't it. Disappoint crept up her back and weighed down her shoulders.

Sighing, she shook her head. The feeling of just never catching a break was quick to twist itself around her stomach. Pulling the blanket off the back of the couch, she spread it over him and then made her way to the hall.

She paused, however, right next to the phone. Her dad was old school— he kept a landline for emergencies and the phone had its own answering machine. The screen was blinking with six missed calls and three unheard messages. Malia glanced at the couch. At her dad, who couldn't be bothered to stay sober for more than a day or two. Who clearly didn't have the capacity to deal with the chaos of his own life, let alone hers. Who only seemed to disappoint her these day. And then she scrolled through the call display and erased the calls from the hospital. Finally, she erased the messages telling Henry that his daughter had been admitted to the hospital and would need him to pick her up.

Malia closed the book on a bad night and decided the less he knew, the better.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

 _"Mom's gonna be so mad." Kylie crouched down next to Malia as she leaned against a tree, rucking up the leg of her jeans to see bruised and battered skin. Blood dripped down her leg in two long, crimson lines. "She told us not to play out here."_

 _"It's just a skinned knee." Malia frowned. "Anyway, we're not that far from home. What's the big deal?"_

 _"She says we can't come this far."_

 _"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's private property." Malia pushed her hands down against the soft, muddy earth, and levered herself up the tree. "What's the big deal? There's just some family that lives out here. It's not like they bite."_

 _Kylie snorted. "Maybe they do."_

 _Malia cast her gaze to the sky, squinting through the reaching, criss-crossing branches of the trees. "It's getting dark."_

 _"Can you walk?"_

 _"It's not broken," she muttered._

 _"No, but it's bleeding pretty bad." Kylie's eyes darted around. "What if the animals smell it and attack us?"_

 _"We'll be fine."_

 _"We should cover it." Kylie reached up and pulled her bandana off her head, knocking a dragonfly barrette loose from her hair. "Here. We can put this around it."_

 _"You don't have to_ — _"_

 _Kylie wasn't listening. She bent down and wrapped her bandana around Malia's knee as many times as she could before tying it in a knot. "How's that feel?"_

 _Malia bent her leg a few times and nodded. "It's good."_

 _Standing, Kylie hooked her arm around Malia's waist to help her walk and started moving. Malia had always loved the ups and downs the forest bed offered— trees, hills, creeks, and rocks always gave her something to jump over or off of. But now, with her leg twinging at every step, she found everything that much more difficult._

 _"What if the alpha finds us?"_

 _Malia frowned and looked down at the top of Kylie's head, her messy hair tied in two braids on either side. "What?"_

 _"It has your scent now, right? What if it tracks you down?"_

 _Shaking her head, Malia blinked. Suddenly, she wasn't her nine-year-old self and remembering a time when she and Kylie had wandered too far from home. Instead, she was sixteen, leaning on a long dead sister. "Why would it do that? I'm nobody to it."_

 _"Derek said Scott needed a pack and you were it, right?" Kylie looked up at her. "But the alpha wanted Scott in_ his _pack... What if he hurts you to make that happen?"_

 _Malia frowned._

 _"You remember when Mrs. Esposito had a house out here? She lived even deeper in the woods."_

 _Her head spun at the sudden topic change. "Yeah, she had that raspberry bush she used to let us raid."_

 _"Why do you think mom let us go out there, but we weren't allowed out this way?"_

 _"I don't know." Malia shrugged. "Maybe it was the creek. She didn't want us crossing it."_

 _"Yeah. Maybe." Kylie grinned up at her. "I'll race you the rest of the way."_

 _"But, my knee, it's_ — _" Malia looked down and saw that her leg was perfectly fine. The bandana was long gone and her skin was unblemished. When she looked up, Kylie was already hurrying through the trees, her hands skimming over the top of long grass. "Hurry up!"_

Malia startled awake and stared, blurry-eyed at the dark ceiling of her bedroom. Her sister's laughter still rung in her ears, an echo that left behind nostalgia and pain in equal measure. She sunk back against her bed and sighed. These dreams were getting weirder and weirder. While Malia had dreamt of her mom and sister before, it was never this often. It tended to happen closer to birthdays or Christmas or the anniversary of their death. Lately though, it felt like they were all she dreamt of. It used to be just memories; fractured glimpses of moments they'd shared. Now, it was that and more. The past mixing with her present in a way that left her confused and disjointed.

Turning over onto her side, she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep, hoping she wouldn't dream at all.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Come morning, Malia was exhausted. She'd tossed and turned all night and wasn't feeling particularly motivated to do much of anything. But, she dragged herself out of bed anyway. After filling Shiloh's bowl, she served herself some cereal, and then looked up, surprised, when there was a knock at the front door. Stiles was a knock-and-enter type, if he remembered to knock at all. So, when the door didn't swing open, she walked toward it, confused. Her dad had long taken off for work, so the number of people that would be visiting her this early in the morning was small.

Pulling the door open, her brows hiked when she found Derek on the other side. "Uh, hey… Don't tell me you got lost."

He rolled his eyes. "No. I…" He paused. "I came to check up on you."

Malia glanced away. "Oh. I'm fine."

"Good." He tucked his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Scott was pretty worried when he found out you'd been hurt… You're gonna have to be careful about that."

"About getting hurt or keeping Scott from worrying? Because that's a little harder to do than you might think."

"In case you haven't noticed, Scott's pretty attached to keeping you alive. He'd probably shift if he thought you had a hangnail…" He rolled his eyes. "He needs to work on his control."

"That's funny considering I've asked _you_ to help him with that."

Derek frowned. "I gave him some advice. It's not my fault if he has trouble following it."

Malia's eyebrow arched. "What kind of advice?"

"Scott needs an anchor."

"An anchor…?"

Derek sighed. "It varies for different people, but it basically means that you use a memory or a feeling or a _person_ to tether yourself. That way, when the pain comes, you can think of it, and instead of shifting, you're grounded."

She nodded slowly. "Does it have to be one thing? Because we've been using something. It's not perfect, but when he thinks of his friends, his mom, Allison, he can sort of stop it. Sometimes it just seems to hold it off or slow it down. But there've been a couple times where it worked almost perfectly."

"Times when you were there?" Derek stared at her. "Maybe you said something, even reached out."

She shook her head. "Yeah, I guess. So what?"

Derek cast his eyes upward for a long beat. "Look, that might work temporarily, but he needs one thing that can he can hold onto that's going to stop his shift in its tracks."

"Okay. We'll work on it, I guess." She searched his face. "What's yours?"

"What?"

"What's your anchor?" She shrugged. "Why? Is it personal or something? Is that, like, weird to ask?"

"Depends on the person." He shifted his feet. "I use anger. Pain works, too."

" _Pain?_ "

"Yeah. Break your wrist or a finger, it snaps everything into focus."

"Literally…" She stared at him thoughtfully. "That sounds depressing. Maybe rethink your anchor."

He snorted and a faint smile edged at his mouth. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Anyway… I have school." She dropped her hand against the door. "Stiles is gonna be here in a bit."

Derek nodded. "Like I said, I just wanted to check in… You took the alpha on and survived. I'm impressed."

"I didn't take it on. I just… got in its way." She shrugged. "I was a distraction so Erica and Jackson could get out."

"Still… For whatever reason, it didn't kill you."

"Don't sound too excited."

"Why?" His gaze narrowed. "Why wouldn't it kill you?"

"I'm not sure it wouldn't have tried… When I was on the floor, it had pinned me down. I could barely breathe."

"You think it would've killed you?"

"I don't know… Maybe."

Derek hummed. "If it didn't, if it never planned to, that means it's targeting specific people."

Her brow furrowed. "So, what does a bus driver and a video store clerk have in common? Why them?"

He shook his head. "I don't know… But I'll find out." He backed up then, turning toward the porch stairs. "You should change your bandages, so your stitches don't get infected. The blood smell old."

Malia stared after him a beat. "That's creepy!" she called after him.

He waved a hand over his shoulder and continued down to his car.

"Weirdo." Closing the door, she returned to her cereal.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"It's still weird to me that he just shows up at your house." Stiles readjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder as they walked down the hall.

"Not that weird. He knocked, at least. Half the time, you just walk right in."

"Yeah, but that's different. I _earned_ those privileges. I've invested six years into this friendship, I get some leeway!"

Malia rolled her eyes. "Anyway, he brought up a good point."

"What, you mean about how they have to be tied together somehow?" He nodded. "Sure, I mean, if he's right. If the alpha is targeting specific people, then we need to find out how they knew each other."

"It's a small town, though. They could know each other through any number of ways."

"True. But, something's gotta stand out…" His brow furrowed. "If this person killed Laura Hale strictly to become an alpha to hunt these guys down, then they must've done something big, right?"

Malia nodded. "But how do we even find something like that out? It's not like we can do a deep-dive on these guys."

"Why not?" Stiles shrugged. "We break into their houses, right? Take a look around, see what we turn up."

"Said the _Sheriff's_ son..." Malia shook her head. "I'll think about it. Just don't do anything without me. We need to be on the same page about any B&E's."

Stiles snorted. "Sure. Sounds good."

" _Malia!_ "

Together, Malia and Stiles pivoted to face the other end of the hall, where a worried Cole was approaching.

Stiles sighed.

"Hey..." Cole reached out, his hand finding Malia's forearm. "I know you said you were okay, but... I wanted to see for myself."

She half-smiled. "I'm fine, seriously. But, uh, thanks. For worrying. And sorry about Saturday."

"No, don't worry about it. It just sucks that picking up the movie is what set things in motion."

Stiles butted in then. "Kind of good it did though, right? Since Malia here pulled a Superman and saved a Freshman and Jackson from being mauled to death..." He raised a fist and said, rather unenthusiastically, "Go Malia."

Cole's eyes widened. "You saved people?"

"Uh... He's making it sound much cooler than it was." She waved a dismissive hand. "Really. It was dumb."

"I'd like to hear the story if you're up to it." Cole shrugged. "Maybe we could have lunch together?"

"You know, I would, but today is a little booked. I'm free tomorrow."

Cole nodded. "Sure. That works."

"Great. I'll see you then." Reaching out, she socked him in the arm.

Amused, Cole merely grinned. "See you then." As he moved past her, he paused to kiss her cheek. "Feel better."

Malia felt her whole face warm up and refused to look at Stiles. When she was sure Cole was out of hearing range, she muttered, "Don't say it."

Stiles ignored her. "You punched him in the arm like you were the coach of his Little League team."

"I know…" She groaned. "I panicked."

"Good swing, kid, lead with your left next time."

Malia turned a glare on Stiles. "Seriously?"

He smirked. "That was painful to watch. How do you make out with him if this is how you two act?"

"Making out doesn't involve a whole lot of talking." She shrugged. "Anyway, it was just... _weird_. Like, I get that he cares, but I didn't expect genuine worry."

Stiles frowned. "Why?"

"I don't know. Because we're not a real thing. We're just people—"

"With benefits. Yeah, I know." Stiles rubbed a hand over his hair. "Maybe he wants to be more. Maybe finding out you were in mortal danger flipped a switch for him."

Malia pulled a face. "Well, how do I get it to _un_ -switch?"

Stiles tossed a hand up and shrugged. "No idea."

"Hey," a familiar voice said at her shoulder.

Malia turned to see Danny and grinned. " _Hey!_ "

"Is it okay to hug you or...?"

Rolling her eyes, she said, "I'm not that fragile." Opening her arms, she leaned in for a hug and hooked her chin over his shoulder. "It's gonna take more than some mountain lion to take me out."

He snorted and rubbed a hand over her back. "I'm glad. You had me a little worried with that 911 text."

"At least you got one," Stiles muttered.

Danny glanced at him, his brow furrowed.

Stepping back, Malia explained, "Stiles is mad I didn't call him for help even though I was limited for time and you actually knew where I was. Anyway, I'm glad you're here. I have to cancel tutoring this afternoon."

Danny cocked his head. "You get a couple stitches and suddenly math is off the table?"

"Math is _always_ off the table. It'd be in another hemisphere entirely if it were up to me. But, no, actually I have plans with Allison. Don't mention it to anybody, but it's her birthday and I wanted to make it special. So, I'm really only here to talk her into skipping and then taking our thrill-seeking butts elsewhere."

"As your tutor, I should probably disapprove..." Danny grinned. "But as your friend, I think it's pretty cool you're doing something for her."

"Yeah, well. Don't make a big deal about it."

Shaking his head, he squeezed her shoulder. "All right. Us overachievers need to get to class. Text me later and make sure you're in tutoring tomorrow. You've got a test coming up."

Malia saluted him. Once he'd walked down the hall, she turned to Stiles, only to see him frowning at her. "What?"

"What do you mean 'what'? You're skipping school on the same day we have parent/teacher interviews?"

"I got stitches Saturday. If anybody asks, I'll just say I was sore and I went home." Shrugging, she started down the hall, en route to Allison's locker. "You don't have to come. We're just gonna hang out, eat our weight in ice cream cake, maybe raid a store for helium balloons."

Stiles glanced around. "Are you sure you want to do this? I know we've all kind of swept it under the rug that Allison is the daughter of a hunter, but don't you think we should rethink how close we're getting to her? What if someone calls home, tells her dad or her aunt that Allison didn't make it to school. Later, he finds her with you, jumps to conclusions, and the next thing you know, you're mounted on their wall next to the last werewolf they bagged."

"How much sugar did you have before school?" She shook her head. "Stiles, they're not going to shoot me because Allison skipped a day of school. As far as they know, I'm human."

"Which doesn't mean anything, not to them. You heard Derek— these people are ruthless."

"Never thoughts I'd hear you use Derek as the voice of reason…"

"That's beside the point. Look, I just think we need to be careful."

"If you're so scared, come with us." She shrugged. "Of the three of us, you're the least close to Allison. This way, you can meet her, really get to know her, and you'll see she isn't like her family."

Stiles frowned. He took a deep breath through his nose and let it out on a sigh. "Parent-teacher interviews," he reminded.

"So, we skip the morning and come back for the afternoon." She shrugged. "It's a few hours. I don't think your grades will suffer that much."

Stiles didn't answer, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers against them absently.

Malia spotted Scott at Allison's locker as she approached and smiled as he stood, turning to face her.

"Hey." He looked her over quickly, his mouth twisted up. "How do you feel?"

" _Fine_. Just like every other time you texted me."

He shrugged. "I'm worried."

Allison turned to face her. "Lydia filled my locker with balloons and a card. I don't even know how she figured it out."

Malia's brows hiked. "It's Lydia."

Sighing, Allison shook her head. "Maybe we shouldn't do anything today. We can reschedule for the weekend."

"Not a terrible idea," Stiles agreed.

"No." Malia stared at her. "Today's your birthday and we're going to celebrate it. No lame dinner and shopping with your parents. A real hang out with real friends... And Stiles."

" _Hey!_ "

"What? You two barely know each other."

"Still..." He shrugged. "Didn't need to make me feel like some weird fourth wheel."

Malia blinked at him and then returned her attention to Allison. "Anyway... I propose we kick things off with breakfast."

"Wait, what's happening?" Scott wondered.

"We're taking Allison out and giving her the best birthday of her life... Not to oversell it or anything." Hooking an arm through Allison's, she started down the hall, and heard the boys fall into step behind them. "Options are kind of limited. The bowling hall is open, laser tag—"

"Wait, wait, wait." Allison tugged her to a stop. "You want to skip? I thought we'd do something after school..."

"Why wait?"

"Well, you're asking someone who's never skipped a day in her life to skip the whole day."

"Or just the morning. I haven't decided yet." Malia shrugged. "It doesn't have to be anything big. We can, I don't know, make a bonfire, hang out in the woods. We did that for Stiles' birthday once."

Scott grinned. "We had s'mores and Stiles almost started a forest fire."

" _Almost_ being the key word there," Stiles defended.

Allison laughed lightly. "I don't know..."

"Come on. It'll be fun." Malia took each of Allison's hands and pulled on them, one after the other, making her dance. "I promised you something memorable, right?"

Biting her lip, Allison tried to hide her smile, but eventually gave in. "Okay. All right. But if we get caught, I'm totally blaming you."

"Deal." Malia pivoted on her heel and started walking again, bringing Allison along with her. "So, bowling alley or...?"

"I liked the woods idea. I haven't really seen much of the preserve and if anyone sees me, I could get detention, so..."

"Cool. Preserve it is."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

They made a stop at the convenience store first, picked up some snacks and drinks and then loaded back into the cars. While Scott and Stiles followed in the jeep, Malia joined Allison in her car. "Are you still freaking out?"

Allison glanced at her, her eyes wide. "A little bit, yeah. Is that weird?"

Malia shrugged. "I get it. I haven't skipped a lot either. The first time was because Stiles was having a panic attack— he couldn't focus or catch his breath. We were twelve and it was right before school and we just stopped, sat down on a bench a block away from the school, and stayed there. I didn't know what to do, so I talked. Mostly about some TV show we were both into. Eventually, he calmed down, and we stayed there a while longer. We missed the morning, but we showed up at school in time for break." She shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal."

"What about the next time?"

Malia turned her gaze out the window. "Scott was sick. He had a really bad flu and it was messing with his lungs. Melissa had to be at the hospital, she'd already used up all of her sick days staying with him. I was worried. I don't know, I guess I thought if nobody was there to keep an eye on him, he'd have a coughing fit and kick the bucket or something. So, I left school, showed up at his place, and kept him company. We ate soup and played video games and he used a whole box of Kleenex blowing his nose. Stiles showed up after school and we stayed there until Melissa got home."

Allison nodded. "You're a really good friend."

Malia turned to her. "Are you just saying that because I promised you ice cream cake?"

She laughed. "No. But are we seriously getting one?"

"Absolutely."

Grinning, Allison said, "I know we haven't really done much yet, but this is already one of my best birthdays."

"Yeah? Wait until you have a s'more. Are you still doing something with your family tonight? After parent-teacher interviews."

"I don't know. Probably." She paused and bit her lip. "Don't hate me, but I talked to Kate. She feels really bad about what she did and she apologized like, a lot. I'm still mad at her, but... I don't know. She gave me an early birthday gift." Hooking a thumb in the chain of her necklace, she raised it for Malia to see. "It's a family heirloom. Apparently, if I look up the symbol in the middle, it'll tell me more about my family history."

Malia felt her stomach sink like a cinder block. "Really?"

"Yeah." Her brow furrowed. "Is that weird or cool? I can't tell."

"Guess it depends on what you find." She attempted a smile. "It's a nice necklace."

"Thanks."

Absently, Malia said, "Take the left turn off."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia and Stiles walked a little ahead, far enough that Allison wouldn't be able to overhear them, as they cut through the woods toward a well-known fire pit. It might be a little damp this time of year, but that was why they picked up logs and kindling at the store. Glancing over her shoulder to see Allison laughing at something Scott was saying, Malia quickly turned her attention back on Stiles. "She said it was a family heirloom. That Kate gave it to her and wants her to look up her family history."

Stiles' eyes widened. "What? Are you serious? What's going to happen when she does?"

"I don't know. Maybe nothing."

He sent her a droll look.

"If you read that your ancestors were werewolf hunters, would you immediately believe it?"

His brows hiked thoughtfully. "I mean, I wouldn't discount it. If Scott wasn't a werewolf, that'd be kind of cool."

Malia rolled her eyes and knocked her hand against his chest. "Seriously. Allison is going to think it's some weird fairytale or something. She won't put stock into it."

"Maybe not," he allowed. "But if she asks questions, how do we know Kate won't fill her in and tell her it's not as fake as she thinks it is?"

Shaking her head, Malia sighed. "We have to do something."

"Like what?" He shook his head, his eyes wide. "And also, _why?_ Look, I get that she's a nice person and you and Scott really like her. But at some point, we need to cut our losses here."

"No. Not until I know for sure."

"Know _what?_ "

"That we can't save her!"

Stiles stared at her. "Who says she needs _or_ wants saving?"

Malia didn't have an answer to that.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Allison tucked her hands in the pockets of her jacket and dragged her gaze from Malia and Stiles up ahead, turning to look at Scott. "So, you guys came out here for Stiles' birthday?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah. Uh, it was a couple years ago. You know when you hit a certain age and birthday parties seem really lame? It was like that. He didn't want to have a big thing and his dad was just going to take him out for dinner and give him his gift there. But we still wanted to do something, so we came out here. It was kind of a camping thing, actually. We were gonna spend the whole weekend, but after the almost-fire, we packed it in after one night." He laughed to himself. "It was fun, though. Mostly, we just ate a lot and Stiles told ghost stories. Well, not really ghost stories. It started off urban myths but then he started talking about real stories, like serial killers that were never caught and stuff. Freaked us out a bit."

"Any chance that led to the fire?"

"Nah. Stiles moves around a lot in his sleep and accidentally stuck the foot of his sleeping bag in the fire. He woke up and kicked it off, but then it landed on this bush and, uh, yeah. We were close to a creek, so we were filling up everything we could to put the fire out. It worked, but it could've been pretty bad."

Allison laughed, more in shock than anything. She raised a hand to cover her mouth and shook her head. "I'm sorry. That sounds really awful, but... He just put his feet right in the fire."

Scott grinned. "It was dumb. Malia said she was never taking us camping again."

Allison nodded. "I get it."

"It was pretty great, though. It's usually just the three of us on our birthdays. My mom used to throw these big parties, invite everyone in my class, but it always felt a little weird."

She hummed. "Has it always just been you, Stiles, and Malia?"

"Me and Stiles for sure. We've known each other forever. I met Malia when I was ten. Before that, I don't know. I had another best friend for a while— Theo. He and his family moved after, uh, well, his sister died. She drowned and I guess it was too much, so they moved away."

Allison's expression twisted up with genuine sorrow. "I'm sorry."

"I didn't really know her. I haven't seen Theo since. I still had Stiles, though. And then he met Malia and... that was it." He shrugged. "It's been the three of us ever since."

"You're lucky."

"Yeah. I am." He smiled at her. "Looks like you're pretty lucky, too. Malia's kind of picky about who she hangs out with."

Allison half-smiled. "I'm glad she picked me... even if I did run her dog over."

He laughed under his breath. "Well, it worked out."

"Yeah." She chewed her lip. "Can I ask you something?"

"Uh... sure."

"This is going to sound totally out of left field and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but... Have you ever been in love before?"

Scott's brows hiked.

Allison quickly raised a hand. "Not that I expect you to say anything about me. We've only really been dating a little while. If you even want to call it that, since we've had like, what, one and a half dates? Not including that seriously awkward dinner where my aunt accused you of stealing from her..." She rolled her eyes. "Sorry. I just meant..." She sighed. "I was talking to Malia. And Lydia. And there's just been a lot of pressure about this whole idea of what things are supposed to be like and what you're supposed to do. Like, I'm happy with where we are. We hang out and sometimes we make out and it's fun and I like it. But then I talk to Lydia and she says that, you know, you have to do more to get more, to keep someone's attention. And I've never really thought of it like that. I get where she's coming from, but..." Allison shook her head. "This is coming out wrong. I talked to Malia too and she said that I should talk to you. That I should just be honest and talk to you about expectations... you know?"

"Okay..." His brow furrowed. "And the stuff about love?"

"I guess... I don't know, I guess I just wondered if you ever have been. If there was someone before that maybe..." She trailed off, biting her lip and looking nervous. "Ignore me. Please. That was so weird."

"I have."

Allison looked back at him. "Huh?"

"I've been in love before. Or... I think I was. It was complicated." He ducked his eyes and licked his lips. "I had feelings for someone. Really strong feelings. But, she didn't feel the same way, so... I tried to move on."

"Did it work?"

"Sort of." He frowned. "It's hard to say if you love someone if you've never really been together. Maybe I just felt like I could. Or that if we ever went somewhere, it would just make sense. You know?"

She nodded slowly. "Does she know?"

"No. No, I never said anything. I sort of panicked." Reaching up, he brushed a hand down the back of his neck. "I guess that doesn't answer your question."

"It did, actually." Allison nodded. "Do you think...? I mean, when you look at how you felt about her, did you ever feel that way about anyone else?"

He looked up and met her eyes, staring at her searchingly. "I—"

"Hey, slowpokes!" Malia shouted. "Hurry up, you've got all the good stuff!"

Together, they turned to look, and found Malia standing just short of a clearing, her hands on her hips, an eyebrow raised impatiently.

Scott shook his head, smiling to himself. "We're coming!" He looked to Allison. "Can we take a rain check on this conversation? Pick it up later?"

She nodded. "Yeah, totally."

They hurried ahead then and found Stiles bent over the firepit.

"You want some help?" Allison offered.

Stiles looked up at her and then his eyes narrowed. "Scott told you the sleeping bag story, didn't he? I was _asleep!_ "

Allison folded her lips to hide a laugh.

Malia didn't bother hiding hers at all.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

"No, no, no." Stiles waved a hand around. "That's not what happened."

Malia rolled her eyes. "That's _exactly_ what happened."

Scott grinned as he shaved down a stick to a point. There were already three finished, stuck in the dirt to keep them upright.

"Okay, you're saying that because you're _biased_. Because you think I stole Paul."

"Paul?" Allison's brow furrowed.

"Paul the Pig," Scott told her. "Malia's favorite stuffed animal."

"That Stiles _stole_!"

" _Allegedly!_ " Stiles threw his hands up. "The evidence says that Scott is just as much a suspect as I am but you never accuse _him_ of taking her."

"You called a stuffed pig ' _Paul_?'" Allison smiled slowly. "Why?"

"Because that's her name. My dad gave her to me when I was like, four, and when he asked me what I wanted to call her, I picked Paul." She shrugged. "It stuck."

"Malia brought Paul to every sleep over and used her as a pillow," Scott added. "But then she went missing one night and we never saw her again."

"And Stiles _hated_ her."

"She had beady eyes," Stiles cried. "She was always staring at me. I couldn't sleep!"

Malia leapt to her feet and stabbed a finger in his direction. "A-ha! So you admit it!"

Stiles scoffed. " _No_. But if I did, I would've had a good reason."

Malia narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, please."

"I didn't take her. You probably left her somewhere and just forgot." He pressed his hands to his chest. "The point is, I've lived with this accusation for six years and I'm sick of it!"

"Do they do this a lot?" Allison wondered, glancing at Scott.

He smiled. "Yeah. They fight like this all the time."

Allison tipped her head. "It's kind of cute. They're like brother and sister."

Malia reached over and shoved at Stiles' face until he toppled backwards off the log he was sitting on and landed on the ground behind him.

"Oh, _real_ mature," he muttered, pulling himself back up.

Glaring at him, Malia retook her seat and turned her attention to Allison. "So, how's the birthday going so far?"

"Well, I'm only slightly terrified my dad is going to kill me if he finds out I skipped. I'm even _more_ worried that Stiles might fall into the fire. And I'm about to have a s'more at nine in the morning. But, I'm not complaining." She tucked her hands between her thighs. "This actually feels like the most normal thing I've ever done. I mean, skipping's kind of a rite of passage, right?"

"Oh yeah," Stiles agreed. "I don't even think they let you graduate if you haven't done it at _least_ once."

Allison rolled her eyes. "I just meant that… I don't get to do things like this a lot. Moving around like I do, I feel like I'm always 'on.' I'm always trying to make a good impression and fit in and… It's exhausting."

"So… _stop_." Malia rested her arms on her knees and shrugged. "We're already friends— you don't need to impress me."

Scott nodded. "Or me."

"I'm not against being impressed." Stiles' brows hiked. "Impress away."

Allison grinned, her dimples popping. "Well, I happen to be an expert marshmallow toaster, how's that for impressive?" She plucked a stick from the dirt and reached for the bag of marshmallows, tearing it open with her teeth before she stuck one on the end.

" _That…_ sounds like a challenge." Stiles circled the fire to grab up a stick of his own. "You're on. And don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're the birthday girl."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Entirely too many s'mores later, Malia sat sideways on her log, her back resting against Scott's side. "I'm regretting all of my choices."

"All of them?"

"Maybe just the last three." She frowned. "How many s'mores was that?"

"A _lot_." He smiled. "It was really nice of you, bringing Allison out like this."

"Yeah, well, she deserves it. I'm not sure how memorable it was."

"She seems to be having fun."

Having limited her s'more intake, Allison was making hot dogs with Stiles. They seemed to be bonding over a book series they were both into, proving to Malia that Allison was a bigger nerd than she might seem. "We still have to get an ice cream cake."

"Maybe you should eat something that isn't pure sugar and then we'll talk."

"Okay, _dad_ …" Malia rolled her eyes.

After a pause, Scott cleared his throat. "How'd, uh, how'd your dad take it when he found out about the attack?"

Malia bit her lip. "He doesn't know."

"What?" Scott shifted to face her, pressing a hand to her back to keep her steady. "What do you mean? _How?_ "

Sighing, she turned around to face him. "He never talked to the hospital. He missed all their calls and… I erased the messages they left."

" _Lia_ …" He shook his head. "Why?"

"What would he even do? It's not like he can change it."

"No, but… he'd want to be there for you."

"To do what?" Her brow knit. "It happened and now it's over. Telling my dad means he might go into overprotective mode, which we don't really have time for right now. I need to be able to come and go like usual."

He frowned. "He should know."

"Why?"

"Because you were hurt and— and he should _care_."

Malia swallowed tightly. "I'll tell him eventually. When we don't have more important things to worry about."

"Hey..." He rubbed his hand down her arm. "This _is_ important. _You're_ important."

Malia chewed on the inside of her cheek. "When I got home, I was expecting a different reaction." She scoffed. " _Any_ reaction. But... he was passed out on the couch and there were empty beer cans on the floor and... I put two and two together." She shook her head. "I should know better by now, right?"

Scott didn't say anything. Instead, his hand slid up to the nape of her neck and tugged, drawing her toward him. She let her arms wind around his waist and pressed her face against his shoulder. He was warm and solid, just like always. This close, all she could smell, see, and feel, was him. And it felt good. Enveloped as she was, she could sink into that heat and comfort and get lost.

"What's happening? What'd I miss?" Stiles plopped down on the log next to Malia. "Are you two sharing secrets over here and leaving me—" He motioned to Allison. "— _us_ out. Totally unfair."

Malia rolled her eyes and slowly detangled from Scott, turning to face Stiles. "Hey, we should play a game."

"If you suggest truth and dare, the chances of me starting another fire go up exponentially," he warned. "So definitely take a second to think this through..."

She snorted. "No. What about that game we played at Brandy Lu's house when we were in seventh grade. At that co-ed sleepover party, you remember?"

"I remember Scott snoring so loud I didn't sleep at all," Stiles muttered.

"I had a cold!" Scott defended.

" _Anyway_..." Malia rolled her eyes. "Someone picks something, like, first kiss, and we all say three things that relate to it, like age, name, place, feeling, whatever."

Allison nodded. "Okay. That could be fun." She picked at her hot dog to see how well done it was before wiping her hand on her jeans and letting it rest over the fire once more. "Um... first time you skipped school." She grinned. "Today, the preserve, and... fun."

Malia nodded. "Grade seven, Stiles, and park bench."

"Aww," Stiles said, bumping her shoulder. "All right, my first time... I was six, in Kindergarten, and I got distracted chasing a frog and... yeah, didn't come back until the last bell rang. Dad was _pissed_."

Scott grinned. "I remember that."

"What about you?" Allison wondered. "When was the first time you skipped?"

"Uh, I was... nine, I think. It was with Theo, just before he moved away. We came out here, walked around." Scott nodded. "It was sad. He was still pretty messed up about his sister."

Malia's hand landed on his knee and squeezed gently. Scott's covered it, his thumb skimming along her pinkie.

"I'll go next," Stiles said. "Let's see. Okay, best childhood memory. Mine was my mom, driving around in her Jeep, we used to play 'I Spy' all the time. She, uh..." He rubbed a hand over his hair and down his neck. "She always picked the weirdest things."

"I was six, mom took me to Disneyland, and I threw up on Mickey Mouse," Scott said.

"That's your _best_ memory?" Malia grinned at him. " _Why?_ "

"Because... it was _Disneyland_." His brows hiked. "And I got to meet Mickey Mouse."

Snorting, she looked out across the fire. "Allison, what's yours?"

"Um, probably when I was eight. My dad got me a new bow and we spent the _whole_ day together." Her gaze fell. "He gets really busy and we don't always get to spend a lot of time together. But he was so excited, you know? That I liked it and that he could be there to show me how to use it... Yeah, it was really nice."

Malia's gaze slid toward Stiles, who was frowning. His eyes cut toward her, brow furrowed, and he gave his head a small shake. She knew in her heart that Allison was an innocent bystander in all this. That she didn't know about werewolves and she wouldn't actively kill one, especially if it was someone she knew. But that didn't mean she could completely ignore Allison's family history, or the fact that Derek had said each hunter was groomed. So as much as Allison's memory was painted in nostalgia, it was also the first step in her following in her father's footsteps.

"Malia?"

"Huh?" She looked up abruptly. "Oh. Right. Uh..." She had a lot. It was hard not to when that was the only time her family was whole. "When I was seven, I had this really awful flu. I had a fever and I was stuck in bed for like a week. And it completely sucked. It was the worst feeling ever. But... my mom stayed with me the whole time. She used to make this tea from something in her garden, it always made me feel better. But, I was so sick, I couldn't even lift my arms. So, she fed it to me and she'd sing me to sleep and every time I woke up, she was there, just holding me. It's weird, you know? You feel terrible, like you're going to die, but, somehow having her there made me feel like I couldn't. Like, no matter how bad it got, she wouldn't let me go."

Scott turned his hand over and parted his fingers, letting hers fall between them. "First friend?" Scott suggested. "Mine was a kid named Parminder, lived next door to me when I was little. We used to pretend we were the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."

"Which one were you?"

"Leonardo."

"Stiles would be Mikey."

" _Hey!_ "

"Your superpower was to create _pizza_."

Stiles paused. "Good point."

Malia shook her head. "My first friend was probably Kylie. I didn't really hang out with anyone else until Kindergarten and then it was a girl named Sophie. She used to stick marbles up her nose and then blow really hard and shoot them at people. Which..." She shrugged. "I thought was hilarious."

Allison smiled. "Mine was Thomas. He was my cubby buddy in pre-school. I don't remember him really well, just that he always used to share his orange slices with me."

Stiles hummed. "Yeah, Kayla shot spit balls at my head every day... Then she challenged me to a monkey bars race and I _won_ and yeah, we were friends after that." He shrugged. "Somewhere around grade two, we just kind of went our own ways."

Things went on like that for a while, with each of them coming up with something for them to speak on. And even though Malia knew most of the stuff Scott and Stiles shared, occasionally she learned something. And she could see Allison was, too. The longer they talked, the more relaxed she was, the more open she got, and the more she fit herself into their friends group. Even Stiles, who had been a little more reticent to get to know her, let her in just a little.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Around lunch time, Malia walked away from the group, leaning against a tree as she thumbed through her phone and read the many text messages Danny had sent her. According to him, Lydia had been MIA all day and he was concerned.

"What's up?" Stiles wondered, walking over to her. "You look worried."

"Danny keeps texting me… Lydia didn't show up in any of her classes and Jackson's being weird. Apparently, he's been edgy and spooked all day."

Stiles shrugged. "Well, he did get chased by a homicidal werewolf."

"Yeah, but does he _know_ that?" Malia looked up at him. "What if he actually saw something? I mean, it was dark and it was hard to make out, but what if when the alpha got outside, Jackson got a better look at it?"

Stiles frowned. "If it happened outside, that means Lydia might've seen something, too."

"Which could explain why she wasn't at school today…" Malia frowned. "What do we do?"

Taking a deep breath, he let it out on a sigh. "Go to the source."

Malia's gaze cut past his shoulder to the fire, where Scott and Allison were talking. "We can't just leave."

"We kind of have to. Look, we can make an excuse, right? Tell her there's an emergency. We can meet up somewhere later. She's already freaked that her dad's going to see her and she'll get in trouble, we can use that so she won't come along."

"And do what? Just drop by Lydia's uninvited?"

He shrugged. "Why not? We'll tell her mom we're Lydia's friends and just wanted to drop in and check on her."

Malia snorted. "And then interrogate her?"

" _Subtly_ , yeah."

Taking a deep breath, Malia let it out on a sigh and nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

"Really?" He looked surprised. "I didn't think you'd go for that."

Malia rolled her eyes. "You're right. If Lydia really did see something, then we need to find out what."

"What happens if she did?" Stiles wondered. "Her or Jackson."

"Then... I don't know. We try to convince them their memory is wrong or something. But the last thing we need is them spreading it around town that it wasn't just a mountain lion."

"Okay." He rubbed his hands together. "So, how do you wanna do this?"

She turned and called out to Scott and Allison. "We're gonna go pick up that ice cream cake."

Allison stood, her brow furrowed. "Are you sure? We could come..."

"It's easier if it's just two of us," Malia said. "That way you don't risk seeing your dad."

Allison winced. "Good point."

Scott frowned from his seat on the log. "How long're you gonna be?"

"Uh..." Stiles looked from Malia and then to him. "Shouldn't be too long."

"Yeah. We'll call you." Malia waved. "Just... stay here. Hang out. Eat your weight in s'mores."

"Ugh, I'm all s'mored out." Allison shook her head.

Stiles tugged at Malia's sleeve. "Okay. So, keep your phone on."

Scott nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Malia and Stiles started walking down the leaf-strewn path, making their way back to where the jeep was parked.

"You think we should pick something up on the way?" Stiles wondered. "Like, 'get well' flowers or a card or something?"

"Sure. We'll get a 'sorry you were traumatized by a werewolf' fern. How does that sound?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "You don't think it'd be a nice gesture?"

"I think it'd be an empty one. We're going to Lydia for information, not to be her shoulder to cry on." Malia shrugged. "I'm sorry she got caught up in all this, but we need to know what she found out, not ply her with gifts."

"We can't do both?" His shoulders hiked. "She could be seriously freaked out."

"Stiles, I get that you have this very serious crush on Lydia, but this is not the vehicle for that, okay?"

He pursed his lips. "What about you?"

She frowned. "What _about_ me?"

"This whole 'take Allison out into the middle of the woods and humanize Scott' thing, playing that info-dump game where Allison sees us as people so it's harder for her to attack us later... You don't think I noticed that?"

"That's not what this is about…"

"Isn't it?" He stared at her knowingly. "Look, I'm not saying you don't like Allison. You do, clearly. But, you can't tell me that part of all this isn't because you're trying to convince her she should pick us over her family... How do you think that's going to play out?"

Malia looked away. "I just want her to have all the facts."

"The fact is... we're lying to her. We know about her family and what they're grooming her to do and we aren't telling her. We— We know about _werewolves_ , that her own _boyfriend_ is one, and we're not telling her that either. What happens when she finds out? Because all the fun little 'get to know me' games and all the ice cream cake in the world isn't going to make that better." He marched off ahead of her then and Malia stared after him.

As much as she wished he wasn't, he was right.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _so sorry for the late update. things have been hectic and i'm making a trip out of town last minute. this chapter was originally muuuuch longer, but i've split it up, which is why some of the things mentioned in last chapters 'things to look forward to next chapter' are not here. because i've written so much, however, that means i will probably be able to add the next chapter on time this saturday or sunday. :)_

 _i know a few people were really interested in seeing how henry would react to malia's injury, but i had this planned for a while. his reaction will come later, but for now, he's in the dark._

 _this was also a really allison-heavy chapter, i noticed that while i was editing. but there will be more scalia in the next one!_

 **things to look forward to next chapter** : _first loves; malia and stiles talk to lydia; derek asks for help; parent-teacher interviews; ANCHORRRS; and heart monitors sure are telling... ;)_

 _thanks so much for reading, please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	16. the tell 3

**word count** : 14,162  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : 1x05 - the tell

* * *

 **VI**

Scott couldn't remember whose idea it was, but at some point, he and Allison decided to go for a walk. The woods weren't exactly Scott's second home— an understatement, to be honest. He wasn't great at navigating the preserve, even with the walking paths, but he figured with his heightened senses and as long as they stuck relatively close to the bonfire, they would be okay. By the time they reached the bridge that crossed the creek, he was a little unsure exactly how far they'd wandered from their original position. Depending on what direction they were going, Malia's house wasn't too far from the bridge, but he wasn't completely sure they were walking the right way.

"Hey, you know that game we were playing earlier, when we talked about big milestones in our lives and important people and all that…?" Allison asked, drawing his attention.

"Hm?" His brows hiked as her words seemed to register a few seconds later. "Oh, yeah."

Allison chewed her lip. "First kiss?"

"Uh, her name was Jessie. It was back in like, sixth grade." He shook his head. "It was Valentine's day and she said she really liked the card I picked for her and she asked me to the dance that night. So, I said 'yes' and I ran home, put on my best shirt, which was basically just the one with the least wrinkles, and I met her back at the school. It was pretty normal kid stuff— we danced with like two feet of space between us and my hands were sweating the whole time and... I don't know. There was a slow song and she was staring at me and the next thing I know, she kissed me. We lasted two weeks which, back then, was like _forever_."

Allison grinned. "That's cute."

Scott nodded. "You?"

"Uh... I was twelve. We were neighbors, did everything together. Including our first kiss, I guess." She smiled. "Her name was Sera."

Scott paused, his eyes wide. "Oh."

"Yeah..." Allison glanced at him awkwardly. "Is that weird for you?"

"No. _No!"_ He shook his head. "My mom is bi. I mean, not that I deserve credit for that or something. I just meant... I don't know what I meant. Maybe just that I'm not going to judge you, I guess. Mom said it was a big deal, like people thought she was selfish or that she just needed to pick one. But, it wasn't like that. She just... liked who she liked."

Allison nodded. "Yeah. I feel the same way."

Scott half-smiled. "Do your parents know?"

"Not really." She rolled her eyes. "They get a little weird if I talk about dating at all. But, Kate knows. She was the first person I told."

He nodded. "You must really trust her."

"Yeah." Her nose wrinkled. "I'm really sorry about that dinner. I know I keep bringing it up and you guys keep telling me it's okay, but... What Kate did, that was just weird and totally not like her. She's apologized to me a bunch, but I can't help feeling like it should be you she's apologizing to."

"It's fine." Scott tucked his hands in his pockets. "Really."

"I just… really don't want to lose everything because of something Kate did. I mean… I look at you and Malia and Stiles and I just… That's what I've always wanted. That _connection_. Just, people I know will be there, that I can always turn to. And I feel like I'm building that. With Malia, mostly. And Lydia, too. I'd just really hate for it to fall apart before I even really had it."

"I don't think that's going to happen." Scott half-smiled. "At least not with Malia."

"No?"

"No. Malia is…" His brow furrowed. "I think _she_ thinks she keeps people at a distance, but she doesn't. Not really. She's careful about who she lets get close, but once they do… That's it. She'll be your friend for life." He shrugged. "We fight. Her, me, Stiles, we don't always get along. Stuff happens, you know? But, if she cares about you, she'll fight to keep you in her life, too."

"Okay. Well, good." Allison smiled. "Because I want to be."

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Malia trailed behind Stiles and Natalie Martin, her hands tucked in the pockets of her jacket. The Martin house was, well, _expensive_ looking. Not like a museum, exactly. But like an open house, where someone staged everything to look perfect. It was something right out of a magazine and Malia was worried that if she walked too close to something, she'd get a papercut.

Natalia led them to a closed bedroom door— she knocked gently before she opened it. "Honey, there's a Malia and Stiles here to see you."

On her bed, Lydia was sprawled out in a nightgown, her head propped up on a hand while she admired her nails. "What the hell is a Stiles?"

Natalie laughed awkwardly. "She took a little something to ease her nerves. You can... You can go in."

"Thanks." Stiles stepped in first, Malia just behind him. They glanced back to see that Natalie had left the door open, but walked away down the hall.

Lydia rolled over, a hand braced on her hip. "What are you doing here?" Her brows were raised, but her eyes seemed foggy.

Stiles fiddled with his hands. "We just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Oh." Lydia smacked her lips, looked away, and then back. "Why?"

"Uhh..." He turned to Malia and shrugged.

Malia rolled her eyes. "Because of Saturday. You remember Saturday, right?"

Lydia hummed and then patted the bed invitingly.

" _Don't_ ," Malia told him.

Stiles raised his hands in surrender and stayed standing, keeping his distance.

Circling the bed, Malia came to a stop a few feet from Lydia. "How blitzed out are you right now?"

Lydia pulled a face and then fell back against her pillows, grinning. Without replying, she raised her hands and flattened her palms against the headboard. Her eyes danced around, never quite landing on anything, and then she sighed. "Tate, Tate, Terrrrr…ible Tate."

Malia shook her head. "Yeah, that's me."

"Moody Malia's better."

"I'll drop that in the suggestion box at school." Malia put her hands on her hips. "Look, Lydia, we need to talk about Saturday."

"Why? What happened?"

Malia turned a look on Stiles. "This is stupid. She's wrecked."

"Maybe that's a good thing." He frowned and gave his head a shake. "Okay, gross. Seriously wish I'd thought that one through ahead of time. Uh, what I meant was, maybe she'll be a little more honest about what she saw."

"Who?" Lydia asked, her eyes wide. "Saw what?"

Malia plucked a bottle off the end table, read the label, and then passed it to Stiles.

" _Whoa_..." Stiles snorted. "I bet you can't say, 'I saw Suzy sittin' in a shoeshine shop' ten times fast."

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him stubbornly. "I saw Shuzy... I shaw... I saw..."

Stiles grinned and passed the bottle back to Malia.

While she was putting it away, she noticed Lydia slump against the bed, her face falling and her gaze distant.

"I saw..."

"What? Lydia, what did you see?" Stiles prompted.

"Something." Her voice fell and she stared at the floor.

"Something like... a mountain lion?"

"A mountain lion," she repeated, nodding.

"Are you sure you saw a mountain lion or are you just saying that because that's what the police told you?"

Her brows hiked. "A mountain lion."

Stiles stared at her a beat and then reached past Malia to grab the stuffed giraffe off Lydia's end table. "What's this?" He held it up for her to see.

Lydia shifted back on her bed and looked straight at it. "A mountain lion."

"O-kay." Stiles sighed and put the giraffe away. "You're so out of it."

Lydia sunk down to the bed once more, face buried against her sheet.

"Yeah, that was great." Malia pursed her lips. "Really solved our problem."

Stiles frowned and crossed his arms. "Do we just leave? What if she wakes up and has more to say?"

"We can't trust anything she says. This was a waste." Malia shook her head. "And we're definitely not hanging around so you can watch her _drool_."

A ringing noise came from the end table then, drawing their eyes.

Malia plucked Lydia's phone up. _1 New Message_ stared back at her. Malia swiped at the screen to close it, but all it did was close Lydia's messages and reopen her gallery, where a video was playing. She was about to close it when she realized it was of the video store window and a giant, red-eyed werewolf was crashing through it. "Stiles..." She turned the phone toward him. "We have a problem."

Stiles took the phone from her, his mouth falling open as he played the video. "This is... _not_ good."

That would be an understatement.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"I can't believe you made me stop for ice cream cake…" Stiles scowled, pacing his room as he dialed Scott's number, _again_ , but only got the voice mail. "You try. He'll probably pick up for you."

Malia leaned back in his desk chair, legs hooked over the arm, feet dangling. "A) It'd be weird if we met back up with them and _didn't_ have a cake and B) we _deserve_ this cake after everything that's been going on."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Will you just call him, please?"

Sighing, Malia dialed Scott's number and listened to it go to voice mail again. "Maybe his phone died."

"Yeah, maybe. Or maybe he's making out with Allison and too busy to talk to us about the very real problem we're having!" Stabbing Scott's number in again, he let out a sarcastic laugh. "Hey, it's me again. Look, we found something, and we don't know what to do about it, okay? So, if you could turn your phone on right now, that'd be great. Or else, I'll _kill_ you. Do you understand me? I'm gonna kill you. And I'm too upset to come up with a witty description about how, exactly, I'm gonna do it, but I just am, okay? I'm gonna— _ugh._ Goodbye." He threw his phone on the bed and tipped his head back, sighing irritably.

A knock echoed from the door then and Stiles jumped, whirling around to find his dad lingering in the doorway.

Sheriff Stilinski half-grinned. "Malia, how are you feeling?"

"Good. Haven't popped a stitch yet."

"Let's keep that 'yet' at 'not at all.'"

Malia saluted him. "I'll try my best."

Shaking his head, he turned to Stiles. "Hey, please tell me I'm gonna hear good news at this parent/teacher thing tonight."

Stiles' eyes widened and he waved his hands around awkwardly. "Depends on how you define 'good news.'"

The Sheriff's tone was hopeful. "I define it as you getting straight A's with no behavioural issues."

Stiles nodded, his shoulders hiked. Wincing, he said, "You might want to rethink that description."

"'Nuff said." Sheriff Stilinski turned from the door to walk away.

Malia leaned back in her chair and turned Lydia's phone over in her hands. "Maybe she never watched it... Or maybe she _only_ watched it while she was high."

Stiles shook his head. "Or maybe she watched it and that's what's causing her PTSD."

Tapping the phone against her chin, Malia sighed. "The only way to find out is to ask her when she isn't on half a drug store."

Stiles scooped his phone up from his bed and plopped down on the corner of it. "He should be here. We should be working on all of this together."

Malia nodded. "Then let's go back to the preserve. Maybe they're just sitting around the firepit, waiting for us."

Standing, he shoved his phone in his pocket. "Yeah, okay, let's go." As he walked out the door, he said, "You wanna bring the cake, too?"

Malia smirked. "We can drop it off at my house on the way. Wouldn't want it to go to waste…"

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"I don't want to freak you out, but... I think we're lost." Scott turned around in a circle, his brow furrowed.

"How lost?" Allison worried.

He winced. "It doesn't look great... I mean, if we can get back to a trail, we should be able to find our way out, but..." He shook his head. "Malia knows these trails a lot better than me. I didn't do a whole lot of hiking when my asthma was really bad."

"Okay." Allison put her hands on her hips and sighed. "So, we find a trail and hope for the best?"

"Pretty much." He dug his phone out of his pocket and frowned. "I'm out of range, how about you?"

Allison checked her own phone and sighed. "Me, too."

Nodding, he started through the trees, looking around for any sign of joggers or path markers. "Kind of messes up your birthday, huh?"

"No, not at all. That's kind of the fun part, right? When you tell the story later, stuff like this makes it even more interesting."

"Yeah, I guess." He hopped over a log and reached back to help her over.

"It's like when you and Malia became friends. You didn't like each other, but then the movie happened and, even then, you were awkward and quiet. But, all it took was a question and everything fell into place. Things don't always have to be perfect, but they still find a way to fit."

"Has that ever happened for you?"

Allison half-smiled. "Maybe with Lydia. She just kind of appeared and decided we were friends. Before that, everything was always so temporary. It felt like as soon as I got comfortable, I had to leave."

Scott hummed. "Do you think this time'll be different?"

"I hope so, yeah." She crossed her arms. "What about you? Where do you think your life is headed?"

His brow furrowed. "Finish out school, get into a good college, become a vet... That's the basic life plan."

"Yeah, what about Stiles and Malia?"

He paused. "What do you mean?"

"Will they go with you or...?"

"Stiles is probably headed to Washington. He wants to join the FBI. And Malia... She's still figuring out what she wants to do."

Allison nodded. "Do you think you'll stay in touch?"

"With them? Yeah, definitely." He grinned. "I don't know who I'd be without them. I mean, I'd still be me, obviously, but... maybe just emptier. Stiles is like my brother. He, uh, I don't know, he just, he's always been there."

"And Malia?"

"Malia's different."

" _Special_."

"Yeah." He laughed under his breath. "Yeah, she is."

Allison stared at his profile a long moment. "She was your first love, wasn't she?"

Scott stumbled, nearly tripping over his feet. Catching himself, he whipped around to face her, his eyes wide. "What?" His voice raised in pitch. "Uh..."

Allison smiled slowly. "I get it. She's kind of awesome." She looked at him knowingly. "It's hard to fall out of love with someone when you're around them every day."

Scott's brow furrowed. "Malia isn't..." Panic filled his chest, a cold rush that made his lungs squeeze. "She doesn't..."

He wasn't sure what he was trying to say. Words crawled across his tongue, only to be swallowed down a hollow throat, tumbling down his chest past quick beating lungs. And then, it stopped. The panic ebbed and in its place was something different. He'd never had anyone he could talk to about this— about _her_. As much as Stiles was his brother, he was Malia's best friend, too. And there were just some things that couldn't be said, some lines that couldn't be crossed. But here was Allison, looking at him with knowing understanding. Scott felt the dam break and a flood was released in its wake.

He sighed, his shoulders falling. "The first time we met, she gave me the stink-eye the whole time. She hated me on sight. And... it _sucked_. I was ten though, you know? I wasn't thinking about love or anything like that. She was just this girl that Stiles really liked and he wanted us to be friends, so… I tried. It took a while, a lot longer than I thought, but, it worked. And then a few years go by and we get a little older and... She's one of my _best_ friends. Only it's not like it is with Stiles. It's just, it's _different_ with Malia. I— I can talk to her about things I couldn't talk to Stiles or my mom about. And she… She's so good and smart and I know she doesn't think she is, but I've _seen_ it. She cares so much, even when she doesn't want to. And…

"I don't know when it changed, just when I noticed it. I was thirteen, I had the flu, and I was half-delirious. I was out of school all week and I just wasn't getting better. I had a fever and I was in and out. It _sucked_. Everything hurt and I was stuck at home alone. And then I woke up on the couch and she was right there, eating Cherry Garcia ice cream…" A slow, soft smile turned up the corner of his mouth. "I thought I was dreaming. She was just so... _beautiful_. She had ice cream on her chin and she didn't notice. When I reached out to wipe it away, she slapped my hand, 'cause she thought I was trying to steal the carton from her." He shook his head. "She spent the whole day with me. We played video games and we talked and I almost didn't want to get better, because I liked having her there. I liked how it felt when it was just us." His brow furrowed. "I still feel that way."

Allison stared at him. "You never told her."

"No. I— I was embarrassed and..." He sighed. "I didn't want to lose her. She thought I was a dork from the moment we met. She used to tell me that, all the time. And she called me bucket-head for like a month. I know we're older and I know she cares about me, but I don't think her feelings for me have ever changed. It doesn't matter that my asthma's gone or that I made first line, I'm still just Scott to her."

Allison looked skeptical. "She doesn't think you're a dork."

"She's _literally_ called me that."

"Yeah, but that's how she shows affection." Her brows hiked. "Scott, you're one of Malia's favorite people."

"I'm one of her favorite _friends_. And it's okay, I get it." His eyes widened. "I'm _lucky_ to be her friend, that doesn't bother me. I just... I tried to get over her. I've liked other people. I just... It always comes back to her. It's like you said— we're around each other, every day, and I just… Every time I think I'm over her, she does something or she says something or I just _look_ at her, and I'm right back at the beginning."

Allison nodded.

He shook his head then. "But, I don't want you to think that I was using you or something. I really thought we clicked and I _do_ like you."

"I like you, too. And I think we have fun together." She paused then and stared at him searchingly. "You're sure she doesn't have feelings for you?"

"Pretty sure, yeah. I mean, I'd notice that, right?"

Allison chewed her lip. "I don't know. I just… I remember that night at the clinic, when you asked me to go to Lydia's party with you. I asked her if there was anything between you, she said you were just friends, but…"

"But, what?"

"She hesitated."

Scott stared at her.

"I'm not trying to get your hopes up and I have no real proof or anything."

"Yeah, sure. I…" He sighed. "It's like I said. I'm trying to get over her."

"I know. The things is… As much as I like you, I don't think the _spark_ is the same, you know?"

"I get it."

Allison shrugged. "Maybe Malia had the right idea... with Cole."

Scott stared at her, his forehead wrinkled. "You mean, friends with benefits?"

" _Yeah_. Just, nothing serious. I don't know. It could be fun, right? No expectations or strings or anything like that. We just... hang out sometimes and make out, if we feel like it. But... Look, I never planned on this. I wasn't going to date. I just wanted to make friends and be normal but, when you asked me out, I was excited. I still am. I just think maybe we're not the right fit. You know what I mean? Like... What you feel for Malia, that's intense and deep and... I don't think it's going away anytime soon."

Scott's head fell back. "Are you breaking up with me on your birthday?"

"Better mine than yours." Allison laughed lightly. "And it's not a break up, not really. We only had a few dates and... like I said, I think we could still have fun together. It just doesn't have to be serious."

"And you're okay with that?" Scott raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You don't hate me?"

"I actually think you're a really good guy. And even without the benefits, I think we could be good friends."

Scott nodded slowly. "I think so, too. About the friends part."

Stepping closer, she narrowed her eyes and grinned. "Is that a yes to the benefits then...?"

He grinned. "Are you seriously asking me that?"

She laughed lightly. "One rule though... We have to be honest with each other. If either of us wants to stop and just be friends, we say so."

"Okay. Yeah, good idea."

"Great." She held a hand out. "Shake on it?"

He smiled and took her hand. "Seems a little formal."

"Yeah?" She raised an eyebrow. "Kiss on it then?"

Scott tugged her closer, but stopped short. "Maybe we should save that for after we find our way out of here."

Chuckling, she nodded. "Smart."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After dropping the cake off at her house, Malia walked outside, only to find a shirtless Derek standing on her porch. "Seriously?"

He frowned. "I have a problem."

"Is it that you don't have change for the laundromat and all your shirts are sitting in a dryer somewhere?"

Rolling his eyes, he said, "Kate Argent just attacked me at my house."

"What?" Malia stood a little straighter, her eyes wide. "Just like, out in broad daylight."

"I live in the middle of the woods. I don't think a lot of people heard the gunshots."

"She had a _gun?_ "

"She had a couple thugs, guns, and a taser. She didn't exactly drop by for tea." Sighing, he leaned back against the pillar of her porch and crossed his arms. "I need somewhere to hide. At least until I know she isn't hanging around."

Malia nodded. "Yeah, sure. You can hang out in my room. My dad won't be back for a while and, after that, he'll be at the school. We have parent/teacher interviews tonight."

Derek hummed.

"If you're hungry, there's KD in the cupboard or whatever you need for a sandwich. Just don't touch the ice cream cake in the freezer." Malia walked down the porch stairs. "Hey, when you were running through the woods, did you happen to see Scott or Allison?"

He frowned. "No. Why?"

"We're just having some trouble finding them. We came out for this birthday thing and..." She shook her head. "I'll fill you in later."

Derek nodded and then moved to the door. "Should I lock this?"

"Yeah." Malia walked backwards toward Stiles' jeep. "He'll notice if you don't." Pivoting on her heel, she hurried back to the jeep and hopped inside. "Let's go."

Stiles' hands flipped up from the steering wheel. "What the hell is Derek doing here?"

"Hiding. Come on, we're running out of time."

Stiles backed the jeep up. "What do we do if they're not at the bonfire site?"

Malia shrugged. "I don't know. Look for them, I guess."

Stiles frowned. "And if we don't find them?"

"We keep an eye on the time. If it gets too late, we head to the school. Scott's a werewolf, he can probably sniff his way out. Right?"

Snorting, Stiles looked skeptical, but offered no counter.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

It was dark by the time Scott and Allison found their way back to her car.

Hands resting atop the steering wheel, Allison said, "So, being completely honest, this was a strange but awesome birthday. I think we can definitely chalk it up to 'memorable.'"

"Good. I'm glad."

Allison nodded, smiling. "I don't know where Malia and Stiles are, but do you think they saved us any of that ice cream cake?"

"Knowing Malia…" His brows hiked. " _No_."

She snorted a laugh. "Actually, I just realized she's probably at the school. For parent/teacher interviews."

"Oh, God!" Scott sat up abruptly, his eyes wide. "The parent/teacher conferences. I'm supposed to be there." Wincing, he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. "I'm below 'C' on, like, everything."

"Well, they're going on now." Allison glanced at the time on her dash. "Right now."

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Malia sighed as she sat in front of Mr. Matthews, her arms crossed and her knee bouncing irritably. Stiles had dropped her off nearly an hour ago and she was still waiting on her dad to show. She glanced at the clock on the wall for the third time and ground her teeth. Math was the only class she really needed to be there for. She wasn't sure where her grade currently was, but it hadn't started out encouraging. She was maintaining a solid 'B' in her other classes, but this one always managed to kick her ass.

"Are you sure your father is coming, Miss. Tate?"

Malia dropped her arms and dug in her pocket for her phone. "Look, he's been working a lot lately and it probably slipped his mind. So just… I can record it, okay? Whatever you have to say, I'll make sure he gets it." She dug around in her phone for the recorder app and then dropped the phone on the desk between them.

Mr. Matthews stared at her a long beat and then nodded. "An exception, just this once." Clearing his throat, he said, "Malia has been one of my more challenging students…"

Malia winced and turned her gaze away, focusing on a spot on the wall. Criticism never sat well with her. Instead, it twisted up her stomach into knots, leaving time bombs that would inevitably go off when she was alone, replaying every negative word in her head.

"It would be an understatement to say that she and math have a… complicated relationship."

She managed to swallow the urge to snort.

" _However_ … She's made great strides since the beginning of the year. She took the initiative to get tutoring and it shows in her grades. I'm impressed with the work she's put in and I can see that she's taking her schooling seriously."

Malia's head whipped around abruptly, her brows hiked.

Mr. Matthews stared at her knowingly. "It can be easy to write off a student when it comes to certain things. While I don't think you'll be winning any Fields medals anytime soon, I do think that you've come a long way, and I only see further improvement ahead of you." He paused. "At least as long as you continue to come to class."

Malia's mood rose and then dipped. "Yeah, uh, sorry about today. There was an accident on Saturday and I had to get stitches. I skipped the pain meds and it might've been a mistake."

Nodding, Matthews closed a file in front of him. "I'm sorry to hear that. And I hope you'll try to be in class in future. Your grades have been picking up and I'm glad to see it, but if you want to keep them that way, you have to stick to the path you've set yourself on. It can be easy to backslide— distractions are all around us. But as much as I know you don't _like_ math, it's necessary."

Malia nodded. "Okay. So… is that all?"

He half-smiled, amused. "That's all."

Breathing out a sigh of relief, she hopped up from her seat and grabbed her phone. "Great. Thanks." She made her way to the door, where she paused, and looked back. "See you tomorrow."

Matthews nodded. "See you then."

Hurrying out the door, Malia quickly made her way down the hall, and outside. She had her phone out and was thumbing in a text to Stiles, letting him know she was done at the conference and was hoping he might give her a ride home.

Her phone buzzed in her hand. —' _a ride? where's your dad?_ '

Malia sighed and dipped her head back. —' _he didn't show_ '

Stiles was quick to respond— ' _what?_ '

—' _never mind. i'm on my way!_ '

Half-smiling, she sent back a thumbs-up emoji. —' _the parking lot is packed, meet me by the corner, before you turn in_ '

She started down the walkway and tucked her phone in her pocket. Just as she did, however, she heard screams. Malia pivoted on her heel, her brow furrowed. The parking lot suddenly broke out into a frenzy, with people darting to and fro. Some climbed into their vehicles, while others just raced toward the school. Malia backed up, her gaze darting around, searching for the source of everybody's fear, but she couldn't spot anything specific.

And then she heard it—

A _growl_.

Malia's heartrate picked up. She started back in the direction she came, weaving around people and cars, all the while searching for where the noise had come from. Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, but as soon as she looked, it was gone. It was just like in the video store— whatever it was, it moved quick. But attacking people out in the open like this was suicide, wasn't it? The alpha had purposely attacked the last two victims in isolated areas with a limited audience… Or was that just coincidence?

Malia picked up her pace, only to get knocked in the shoulder by a man, sending her careening into a parked car. She slammed into the trunk and her stitched side lit up; pain ricocheted all down her side. Malia bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she pushed off the car, kept a hand wrapped around her side, and started moving again.

" _Allison!_ "

Malia turned toward the voice— in the distance, she could see Scott, an arm around Allison's waist as they huddled close to Victoria Argent, out of danger from the chaotic traffic. Malia felt relief flood her chest and darted toward them, pausing when she saw something run past her. She stopped and turned on her heel, searching for it. A dark mass disappeared behind a car and she clenched her teeth. A part of her wanted to chase it, to keep her eyes on it rather than to let it chase and avoid and scare her and the others. She took a step in its direction.

"Move!"

Malia looked up, only to see Sheriff Stilinski waving people out of the way while he raced closer to danger. Honking horns and scared shrieking came from every direction. Abandoning her (probably idiotic) plan to follow what she was pretty sure was the alpha, Malia started toward the Sheriff instead. Why, she wasn't sure. It wasn't that she expected him to keep her safe, even if that was technically his job. It was more that, well, he was Stiles' dad. But, what could she do? Convince him to keep his distance? He was the Sheriff, there was no way he'd go for that. But she couldn't just abandon him out here when she knew something a lot deadlier than the average criminal was running around.

A car backed out abruptly, clipping Sheriff Stilinski. Her heart jumped in her chest as she watched him collapse to the ground. Malia broke out in a run, avoiding cars and people alike. She fell to a knee next to him even as he was pushing himself upright.

He frowned. "Malia?"

"Are you okay?" She caught his arm and stared at him searchingly. "You probably shouldn't move."

"I don't have a choice right now." His gaze darted past her. "Find cover, get somewhere safe."

Malia shook her head. "I can't leave you out here. These people are nuts, they'll run you over."

He raised a knee and reached down, hooking his hand around a gun tucked in an ankle holster. "I'll be fine." His brows hiked. "Now _go!_ "

Malia hesitated.

Two gunshots suddenly broke out and Malia flinched. Heart lodged in her throat, she turned to look.

Chris Argent stood in the distance, holding a gun.

Everything went quiet then. Everyone in the middle of fleeing, _stopped_. They turned back and convened on an unmoving mass laying in the damp parking lot.

Malia stayed with Sheriff Stilinski, but she could see, as the crowd parted, what looked like—

A mountain lion.

Her brow furrowed.

What a perfect cover, she thought. But, who provided it?

"Malia!"

Her gaze darted to the left, only to see Scott pushing through the crowd, ducking under arms and weaving around strangers. Warmth spread along her chest and she stood, nodding before he'd even finished asking.

He reached for her, his hands finding her forearms and squeezing gently as he looked her over. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Seriously." Malia turned her attention to Sheriff Stilinski. "He got hit by a car though."

Scott's eyes widened. "What?"

"I'm fine, really." Sheriff Stilinski waved it off, but hadn't yet climbed from the ground.

Melissa made her way over then and crouched down beside him. "Try not to move so much. I already called 911."

He sighed. "You didn't have to. It was barely even a bump."

"It was way more than a bump," Malia argued.

He sent her a flat look.

Malia shrugged. "Stiles will worry. You should see a paramedic. You made me go when I needed stitches." Speaking of, her side felt more than a little tight.

"Different circumstances," he muttered, but eventually sighed. "All right. I'll wait for paramedics." He took a look around. "Preferably without the crowd."

Allison appeared then, hugging her arms to her chest as she looked at Malia. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, totally." Malia snorted. "Especially now that I know you two aren't still lost in the woods."

Scott's brow wrinkled. "How'd you know we got lost?"

"I was semi-joking. Did you seriously get lost?" She looked between them. "We called you a bunch of times, we weren't sure if your phone was dead or—"

"We were out of range. By the time we found a path and got back to the car, it was already dark."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Remind me never to leave you guys alone in the woods again."

Scott half-smiled. "I will."

Allison reached for her, hand gently wrapping around Malia's arm. "Not to downplay the craziness of tonight, but… Ice cream cake?"

Malia laughed. "Still safely tucked away in my freezer." She looked past Allison to a stiff and irritable looking Chris Argent. "Not that I think you're going to get a chance to eat it anytime soon… Your dad looks pissed."

Allison winced. "Yeah. He found out we skipped." She sent her eyes upward. "He's not happy."

"He's not the only one." Melissa stared up at them from where she was croucher, her hands on her knees. "You and me are going to have a very serious talk," she said to Scott, before turning a look on Malia. "You, too."

Malia winced. "Can I claim temporary insanity due to the attack on Saturday?"

"No. But you can ask for leniency."

Malia smothered a smile. "Duly noted."

"Allison," Chris' rough voice called out.

Allison sighed. "I should go." She backed up. "Text me later?" she asked Malia.

Malia nodded. "Yeah. Try not to get grounded."

Snorting, Allison grinned. Which she quickly hid as she turned to face her parents.

As the Argent family walked off in a tight cluster, Malia turned to Scott, who was still holding onto her, his thumbs gently rubbing circles against her forearms. "Are _you_ okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah, just… That was intense, right?"

Malia looked past him, to where the wounded and dying mountain lion laid. "Yeah. Definitely."

Sirens could be heard in the distance then.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and Malia dug it out. Stiles had texted her. —' _almost there. any idea why an ambulance is headed in the same direction?_ '

Malia sighed, her shoulders slumping. _Shit._

—' _i'm freaking out a little here. what's going on?_ '

Thumbing Stiles' name in her contacts, Malia raised the phone to her ear and waited for it to ring through.

"Okay, calling me is not making me less stressed," he answered. "What happened? Are you hurt? Is it Scott? Did he shift or something?"

"A mountain lion showed up in the parking lot, it was chasing people. Your dad was trying to help, but everyone was getting in the way. They were scared and—"

"Malia," he interrupted, his voice thick and shaking. "Where's my dad?"

"He's fine. I promise. He just had a small accident. He was clipped by a car, but he's awake and complaining and Melissa's here. She's keeping an eye on him."

Stiles let out a shaky breath. "Okay. All right. I- I'm almost there. Just… Stay with him. _Please?_ "

"Of course. I'm not going anywhere."

"Two minutes, maybe three, that's it."

"Stiles… Take a breath, okay? He's fine. I can put him on the phone if you want."

"Yeah, yeah, do that."

Malia nodded and stepped back. She turned on her speaker phone and teld the Sheriff, "Stiles wants to know you're okay."

"I'm _fine_." He raised his voice enough for the speaker to catch it. "Everyone is overreacting."

"Sure, yeah, of course they are!" Stiles scoffed. "It couldn't be that you were actually hurt and people are reacting normally or anything."

"Son, I've been hit a lot worse than this. Paramedics are on the way, but I'm already expecting a clean bill of health, okay?"

Stiles took a beat and then said, "I'm on my way." With that, he hung up.

Malia looked back at Scott, whose face was twisted up.

Glancing at the Sheriff, who was being well looked after, she reached for Scott's arm and pulled him away from the others. "What's wrong? You look like nauseas."

"This is my fault."

Her brow furrowed. "What? _How?_ "

"I could've done something. I _should've_. I was trying to find it, but there was so much noise and so many people and I couldn't concentrate. And then Allison nearly got run over and—"

"Scott, it's fine."

"It's not." He shook his head. "It's just like Saturday, only I was actually here and I _still_ didn't do anything."

"You tried."

"Is that enough?" He frowned. "I feel like I should be doing more. That I should _know_ more about what all of this means."

"Okay." She nodded. "Then, we can talk to Derek. He can start pulling his weight on teaching you Werewolf 101."

Scott sighed. "Stiles is going to kill me."

Speaking of, Malia could see Stiles' jeep pull into the parking lot, just behind an ambulance. "He's worried and a lot happened while you were in the woods. But, we can figure this out. Just give him some space to be upset." She shrugged. "It's his dad."

Scott nodded. He hooked his arm around her then and tugged her to the side, out of the way, as the ambulance stopped and the paramedics hopped out, making their way to Sheriff Stilinski.

"Dad!" Stiles parked crookedly, barely closing his door behind him, before he raced across the pavement. "Dad!"

"I'm here, I'm all right," Sheriff Stilinski called back.

Malia pulled Scott with her toward Stiles, watching as the paramedics put a brace on the Sherriff's neck, turned him over onto a float board, and then loaded him on a gurney to be brought to the ambulance.

"That's not good, right?" Stiles worried. "That's a bad sign?"

"They're just being careful," Melissa reassured him, rubbing his arm before she followed after the paramedics.

Malia reached out and hooked a hand around Stiles'.

He squeezed tightly and turned to face her, his eyes darting wildly as he shook his head. "I— I don't get it. What happened?"

Malia looked from him to Scott. "We need to talk. All of us."

Together, they made their way to the jeep and climbed inside. Malia and Stiles needed to let Scott know about the video on Lydia's phone, and Scott and Malia needed to fill Stiles in on the strange parking lot attack. Her hope was that Stiles would see that this was an unforeseen problem— one they couldn't predict, but that they would prepare for better in time. Yes, his dad was injured, but the fault for that fell on mass hysteria, not Scott.

Stiles' hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Where were you?" he wondered, his voice pitched low.

Scott glanced at Malia quickly. "I told you. We got lost in the woods—"

"Not just then. Even though we told you to keep your phone on— you knew we were going to do something. What if we needed your help? Huh?"

"I had no idea what you were doing," Scott defended. "You said you were going to get the cake, not to interrogate Lydia."

"And you couldn't use your furry ears to listen in on what we were talking about?"

Scott frowned. "I can't always use my hearing. It comes and goes. And I didn't think you'd want me listening in."

"It wasn't suspicious to you when we made you guys stay?"

"I don't know." Scott shrugged. "Look, I'm sorry I wasn't there and that I got lost and I missed your calls. If I'd known it was serious—"

"Of course it's serious. _Everything_ is serious. We're dealing with a homicidal freaking werewolf!"

"Yeah, well, I thought we were just hanging out and trying to give Allison a good birthday." Scott sighed. "What happened tonight was a mistake. You know I'd never let your dad get hurt, not if I could help it. But I'm still figuring out what I can do and how to control it. I would've stopped it, I would've helped him, if I knew how."

"Yeah, well, while you were hanging out with Allison, me and Malia were trying to figure out who saw what and how to keep this werewolf secret wrapped up. And while you were saving Allison, my dad was hit by a car with _no one_ looking out for him."

"Stiles..." Malia stared at him.

"Am I wrong?" Stiles' brows hiked. "Allison is an Argent. She's a literal werewolf hunter and you two are both getting way too cozy with her. At least Malia recognizes that she's a threat and is trying to do something about it. But you're still dating her, Scott."

Malia shook her head. "Allison isn't the problem here."

"Isn't she? Even if she's not the main problem, she's still a part of it." Stiles threw his hands up. "At some point, you're going to have to figure out where your loyalty is."

Scott frowned. "What...?"

"Priorities, Scott. What are yours?"

"Are you saying I should've let Allison be run over?"

"If it means saving my dad then, _yeah_." Stiles nodded. "Maybe I am."

Scott's brow furrowed. "I don't want to pick and choose anyone. If I can, I want to save everybody."

"That's really noble and idealistic, but the world doesn't work like that. At some point, you make a choice, and it looks like yours is Allison."

"That's not fair. I was closer to Allison. I— I didn't even know where your dad was! You weren't here, the parking lot was crazy!"

"It was," Malia agreed. "People were running everywhere, screaming, nearly trampling everyone in sight. I didn't even see your dad until he was hit."

"Yeah, well, you don't have super senses." Stiles turned his gaze ahead, to the ambulance, and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "I need to take Malia home. You should probably get a ride with your mom."

Scott stared at him a long beat, hesitating to leave.

"Will you go? Please?" He flipped his hand up from the steering wheel.

Scott's shoulders slumped. He looked back at Malia and then reached for the door, pushing it open and climbing out.

Malia watched him go, his head down in defeat.

"Don't defend him," Stiles said. "Not right now, all right? My dad is wearing a neck brace and I— I'm pissed, okay? I get to be pissed."

"Yeah, you do," she agreed. "Just make sure it's at the right person."

He looked back at her through the mirror. "Maybe it's not. Maybe it's displaced and Scott doesn't deserve it. But right now, I'm mad and I'm _scared_ and I need you to be in my corner. So just..." He clenched his teeth. "Can you do that?"

Leaning forward, she hooked a hand around his shoulder. "I can do that."

"Okay. Good." He nodded and cleared his throat. "I can't lose my dad, Malia."

"He's tough, he's gonna be all right."

Licking his lips, Stiles nodded, but stared ahead, blinking quickly.

When Melissa appeared at the window and knocked, he cleared his throat and rolled it down. "Hey. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. He's gonna have a nasty bruise, looks like there's some soft tissue damage, but he'll live. They're gonna take him in for x-rays just to be sure, but I don't think they'll find anything." Melissa smiled. "He wanted me to tell you he's fine, but that he'll be late getting home."

Deflating with relief, Stiles nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

"Sure." She looked from him to Malia. "Any ideas where my son is?"

"Pretty sure he's waiting for you at your car. I'm gonna give Malia a ride home."

"All right." Melissa tapped the door. "Drive safe. And... Malia?"

"Yeah?"

"We're still going to talk about you skipping today."

Malia smiled sarcastically. " _Great_."

With a grin, Melissa waved, and then turned and walked away.

Groaning, Malia fell back against her seat. "How are you the only one not getting in trouble for this?"

"I was smart and didn't come to the interviews." Stiles put his jeep in gear and started backing up. "Dad can fill me in on my teacher's ringing disapproval later."

She chewed her lip. "Are you feeling a little better now that you know he's okay?"

"Slightly, yeah." He checked both directions before pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road. "I'm still mad though. Scott has supernatural abilities— strength, speed, sight— and he couldn't help my dad?"

"You think he's not beating himself up over that? Stiles, the last thing he wants is for anybody he cares about to get hurt, and that includes your dad." She shook her head. "He's not perfect and he's figuring things out, so maybe we should cut him some slack."

"I will. Just as soon as I know he's doing the right thing for the right reasons."

She sighed, exasperated. "Is this seriously about Allison?"

"What if it was you? Huh? What if a car was coming at you and Allison at the same time on opposite ends of a parking lot? Who does he save? Who does he look out for first?"

Malia frowned. "It doesn't matter."

"Of _course_ it matters! Are you serious!?"

"Knowing Scott, whoever he picks, he'll end up hating himself for not saving the other person, too." She stared at him. "Anyway, that's a shitty position for anybody to be in and it shouldn't be like that. It doesn't have to be either or, and it's not just Scott that has to help people. We're a _team_. If I'd seen your dad, if I was closer, I would've done something. But I wasn't and he got hurt and I feel awful about that. Right now, I'm just glad he's okay. Maybe next time, we're faster or we know what the hell is going on."

"Maybe." He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel.

"And for the record...?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'm always on your side. Even if we don't agree on something, or you're being a complete jerk, I'm always going to be there for you."

Stiles nodded, licking his lips. "Yeah. I, uh… I know."

"Good." Malia paused a beat and then crawled forward and dropped herself into the passenger seat. "You wanna hang out and eat ice cream cake at my place?"

He snorted. "Maybe tomorrow."

"It's hilarious that you think there'll still be leftover cake by then."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

The house was dark when Malia returned home, but her dad's truck was there, so she knew he'd made it back at some point. Shaking her head, she went inside. The couch was empty when she passed it, the TV off, and his bedroom door was closed. Walking to her own room, she waffled between wanting to slam doors and choosing to just add this to the pile of screw ups he only ever seemed to add to. Kicking her shoes off, she reached for the end of her shirt, ready to throw on some PJs and get some sleep. A clearing throat stopped her. Her back prickled with the sudden awareness that someone was in her room.

The bedside lamp flicked on and Derek stared back at her, a brow raised. Shiloh was curled up on the floor, head resting on his foot. Apparently, she liked Derek now. "I'm guessing parent/teacher interviews didn't go according to plan."

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Malia released her shirt and rolled her eyes. "Not exactly…" She eyed him. "Any ideas why a mountain lion would start chasing people through the school parking lot?"

He frowned. "A mountain lion?"

"Yeah. Weird coincidence, right?" She moved to her dresser to dig out a pair of pajamas. "Chris Argent killed it, by the way. He went full Clint Eastwood and shot it while everybody was freaking out. What kind of parent shows up at the school with a glock? That's nuts."

"He's not your average parent."

"Obviously." She moved to the foot of her bed and took a seat, wincing as her side pulled.

Derek sat across from her in her desk chair, his head turned, gaze distant.

"Stiles' dad was hit by a car while he was trying to help," she told him. "He's blaming Scott for not helping. And Scott is blaming himself for not knowing how all of these werewolf _'powers_ ' work."

Derek looked back at her, frowning. "Scott should've kept his head down anyway. If the Argents were there and they saw him trying to do something, they might figure it out."

"Even if it means letting someone get hurt?"

"The Argents don't care that he wants to be a hero. All they care about is that he's a werewolf. They'll put him down just as easy as they did that mountain lion."

Malia pursed her lips. "Whatever. The point is that _you_ need to help Scott figure out what he's doing. You want his help finding the alpha, then you need to show him how it all works. Because as much as we're trying, we don't know everything. And the worse things get, the more he needs that help."

Derek inhaled deeply and let it out through his nose. "If he wants my help, then why is it always you asking for it?"

"Because he doesn't _like_ you. I'm not even sure he trusts you. You already know that; that's why you keep coming to me first. _So_ …" She stared at him, her brows hiked. "What're you gonna do?"

He didn't answer right away, but eventually gave a short, sharp nod. "Tomorrow."

"Fine." She pushed off the bed, a flicker of pain flashing across her face, and started for the bathroom door.

" _Wait_." He reached for her, his hand finding her wrist. Black veins rippled up his forearm and he scowled. "What happened?"

She stared down at his hand and then shook him off. "Nothing."

"You're in pain." He tipped his head up and stared at her, brow knit. "Was it the mountain lion?"

"No." She shook her head. "People were freaking out, trying to get to safety— I was collateral damage. It's fine. I just knocked into a car, it'll bruise but it'll heal."

"Which side?"

"What?"

"Did it pull your stitches?" His eyes narrowed. "I don't smell blood."

"Okay, keep your nose to yourself, Fido." She glared. "I didn't pull my stitches, but it doesn't feel great. I'm going to take a shower and get some sleep. It doesn't hurt that bad."

Derek frowned. "But, it hurts?"

"So do cramps, you wanna drop by in a few weeks and hold my hand then?"

He rolled his eyes.

Malia backed up toward her bathroom door. "Seriously, I'm fine. Thanks for worrying." She waved a thumb at the door. "You can stay in Kylie's room if you want."

She had just turned around when his voice had her pausing—

"You dad was here. He never went to the interviews."

Malia stared at the linoleum floor of her bathroom— an outdated orange floral pattern. "He forgot, it happens."

"He got drunk and sang along to Fleetwood Mac for a couple hours."

She closed her eyes.

"Maybe it's none of my business—"

"You're right. It isn't." She walked into the bathroom and closed the door roughly behind her, pressing her back against it and letting out an unsteady breath. Anger and humiliation warred inside of her. Trying not to think about it, that her dad had missed yet another important date, she dropped her PJs on the counter, turned the shower on, and started stripping down. It wasn't until she was standing under the hot spray that she let the tears out— more of frustration than anything. It was one thing to tell people that her dad was busy or that he was trying, it was another to know that Derek had witnessed her dad's inability to remember her. Knowing that he sat in her room, listening to her dad's drunken singing, his grief on full display, made her feel exposed and vulnerable in a way that she hated.

She didn't leave her shower until the water had lost its heat. She was all cried out by that point and exhaustion was quick to swamp her. Drying herself off, she checked her stitches. Her side was bruised, both from Saturday and tonight, but her stitches were holding. The skin was red and puffy, but then, so was the rest of her. She might've left the water a little too hot. Pulling on her pajamas, she ran a comb through her hair and bundled her clothes and towel together.

When she stepped out of her bathroom, she found her bedroom empty. Assuming Derek had taken the offer and was in Kylie's room, Malia tossed her clothes in the laundry basket and then crawled into bed.

She plugged her phone in and noticed she had a few texts from Scott waiting— ' _hey, are you up?'_

—' _i can't stop thinking about it. stiles is right! i should've done something!'_

— _'do you think he'll forgive me?'_

Sighing, Malia texted back— ' _of course he will. he's just worried.'_ She paused before adding— _'i talked to derek, he said he'll help you learn how to use your senses better'_

Scott texted back soon after— _'talked to him when?'_

Biting her lip, she replied— _'he's kind of staying with me. i forgot to mention that kate attacked his house. he needed somewhere to hide…'_

Malia could practically hear Scott's voice in her head when his text arrived. —' _and you offered your place!? What if kate finds out he's there? what if she thinks you're with him? that you're a werewolf too!?_ '

She winced. —' _i live in the middle of nowhere. i doubt she'll think he's hiding here. anyway it's probably just for tonight. i had to do something. she was shooting at him!_ '

Scott started and stopped texting multiple times, the bubble popping up and disappearing frequently. Until, eventually, he texted—' _just be careful. please!_ '

She half-smiled. —' _i will.'_ She added— ' _it's late. talk more tomorrow?'_

He replied— ' _sure. night!_ ' and added a heart emoji.

Malia shook her head, sent a heart back, and then put her phone on her bedside table and turned over.

Shiloh appeared next to the bed then, resting her head on the mattress and staring up at Malia with sad, hopeful eyes.

Amused, Malia patted the space next to her and Shiloh hopped up, walking in a circle before flopping down next to her.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Come morning, Derek was gone. He left the same salt shaker behind, a sign that he'd stayed, she guessed. He seemed partial to the misshapen cat; a little ironic, in her opinion. Malia caught a ride to school with Stiles, texting with Allison about her recent grounding on the way. Parked in front of the school, she searched out Scott's bike as she and Stiles left the jeep. It wasn't there yet.

"Your dad's okay, though? Just sore?"

"Yeah. He's pretty bruised up and he winces when he walks, but he's okay."

Malia nodded. "So, what's this mean for you and Scott?"

Stiles sighed. "I don't know, okay? I'm still pissed. I know, logically, that he wouldn't want my dad to get hurt. But a part of me can't help feeling like he's not as invested as we are."

Humming, she tucked her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "It was one day. One really bad, really complicated day."

"Yeah. Maybe."

Before Malia could say much more, a flash of light caught her attention. Turning, she found a familiar face standing off to the side of the path, a camera in hand. The photography guy from Danny's party. M-something. Mike? Mort? No, Matt.

She raised an eyebrow. "Yearbook again?"

"Not exactly." He grinned as he walked toward her, and let his camera fall against his chest, hanging from a strap around his neck. "Heard you saved a couple lives at the video store on Saturday. Can't hurt to have a local hero's snapshot."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Hardly."

"Either way." He tapped his camera. "You're one of only a few people who can say they survived that mountain lion."

"Everybody that was at parent/teacher interviews last night might say different." She eyed him curiously. "Who told you I saved someone at the video store?"

He shrugged. "There's a few rumors going around. Some are saying it was Jackson Whittemore that saved you and some Freshman."

"Yeah, right, as if he'd even try," Stiles muttered.

Matt glanced at him and then looked back at Malia. "Are you confirming the story then?"

"I thought you were a photographer, not a journalist."

He smiled. "Picture's worth a thousand words." With that, he walked away, waving to someone in the distance.

Malia stared after him, her brow furrowed.

"I don't like him," Stiles said.

She snorted.

The bell rang then and Malia turned on her heel, shaking her head as they climbed the stairs leading inside. "Hey, do you still have Lydia's phone?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, and no idea how to get it back to her without her noticing."

"Meet me at break. We'll figure something out together."

"Sure."

Walking down the hall, she spotted Scott ahead, digging inside his locker. "You've got first period with Scott, don't you?"

Stiles frowned. "Yeah."

"Are you going to talk to him, at least?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Probably not."

Malia knocked his elbow with her own. "You can't ignore him forever."

"No, but one day isn't going to kill him." He sped up then and cut toward his locker.

Malia stared at him a beat, his head bent low, clearly an attempt to block out everyone around him. She walked ahead then and maneuvered around people to reach her own locker. As she was putting her jacket inside, her phone buzzed in her jeans pocket. Digging it out, she thumbed through to her recent messages. There was one from Cole— ' _still on for lunch?_ '

Grabbing out her books, she thumbed back— ' _yeah. looking forward to it.'_

He sent a winky emoticon back, along with— ' _me too_ '

Malia pocketed her phone, closed her locker, and left for her first class. If she was being honest with herself, while she enjoyed hanging out with Cole, so much had been going on in her life that she felt like she hadn't seen him in months rather than days. There was just so much happening and so many ups and downs, that she felt like she was living a completely separate life from anything involving him. Then again, that was part of the appeal. He was untouched by the chaos she was going through, which meant when they were together, things were easy. Or they were supposed to be, anyway.

She just hoped lunch stayed lighthearted and she could escape for a little while.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

By the time break hit, Malia had a plan.

She met up with Stiles by his locker while he was still putting his things away, a still-wrapped granola bar stuck between his teeth. He nodded at her in hello.

"You erased the video off her phone, right?"

Closing his locker, he spat his granola bar into his hand. "Yeah, after I sent it to myself."

"Okay. So, this'll be easy. I'm going to distract her and you're going to slip the phone into her bag. She'll just think she missed it when she was looking for it before."

Stiles stared at her. "You want me to reverse pick-pocket her? What if she notices and thinks I'm trying to steal from her? I'll be branded some weirdo thief for the rest of high school."

Malia shrugged. "Then don't get caught."

"Don't get— Oh, sure, yeah, _duh_. Why didn't I think of that?" He rolled his eyes. "Could you be serious for a second and try to think about this from my end of things?"

"Stiles… I'll be right there. All you have to do is slide her phone into her purse." Malia shrugged. "There's not a whole lot of other options here."

"We could drop it off at the office and say we found it laying around."

"Lydia knows she had the phone with her on Saturday. She's been at home since then. Today is her first day back. She'll think it's suspicious. If she just finds it in her bag, she'll think she missed it. If it's dropped off in the office, she'll ask who returned it, and when she finds out it's us, she'll put two and two together. She could remember we visited or her mom could've mentioned it to her. This way, it was always with her, she just didn't realize it."

"And if I can't get it into her bag?"

"Then put it away and we'll come up with another plan."

He gritted his teeth. " _Fine_."

"Great." She pivoted and started down the hall. "Talk to Scott yet?" she wondered, scanning the halls for a familiar shock of red hair.

"No. And I don't plan to." He tore open his granola bar and bit off the end. "Have you?"

"No classes with him so far. But, I'm not the one who has a problem with him."

He threw a hand up. "For good reason!"

"I didn't say it wasn't."

Stiles sighed. "I'm just not ready to get over it yet. I know I will. But right now, I'm still mad."

She nodded. "Okay."

Stiles knocked his hand against her arm then. "Hey, there's Lydia." He tipped his head in her direction. "How do you want to do this?"

"Slip up behind her. Be quiet and don't get seen."

"Easy for you to say."

Malia walked ahead, cut across the hall, and came to a stop just short of Lydia, who was fixing her lipstick through a mirror on her locker. "Hey."

Lydia paused, a finger tucked behind her lower lip, carefully wiping at it. Her gaze turned in Malia's direction, followed by her brow furrowing. "This is new…" She cocked her head. "Don't you usually avoid me?"

"That makes it sound like I'm actively aware of where you are and what you're doing. Which, I'm not. It just happens that we don't hang out in the same places most of the time."

"You mean that crumby tree of yours?" She snorted. "I don't get the attachment."

"It's comfortable. Plus, when it's warm, there's shade." Malia crossed her arms. "Have you seen Allison?"

"Mmm, no. Not since first period. Why?" She stared at Malia searchingly. "Does this have anything to do with her being grounded?"

"Maybe." Malia could see Stiles creeping up in the background. He was terrible at it, nearly getting knocked into by a couple walking past and almost tripping over his shoe as he tried to avoid them. "She tell you anything about it?"

"Only that her dad really put his foot down. She's not allowed to hang out with anyone, but Scott especially…" Lydia stared at her searchingly. "I'm curious, is that good or bad for you?"

"Why would it be either?"

Lydia half-smiled, but it was anything but sincere. "You think I haven't noticed?"

Malia frowned. "Noticed what?"

"He's cute. Floppy and a little too innocent, but cute. It doesn't surprise me that you and Allison have similar taste. Of course, I hope hers gets a little more refined in my company."

Malia stared at her. "What?"

"You're not this dense, Tate. You obviously have feelings for McCall. Just as soon as you two act on your little ' _Some Kind of Wonderful_ ' remake, I can redirect Allison to someone more worth her time."

Stiles was right behind Lydia now and had dug her phone out from the pocket of his jeans. He was eyeing the purse hanging off her arm, trying to see what angle to go in at.

"I know you and I aren't close, but do you really think I'd steal Allison's boyfriend away from her?" Malia's brow arched. "She's my friend—"

"Oh, save the hyper-sensitivity for someone else." She waved dismissively. "Scott and Allison are barely anything. They like each other, but there's no fireworks. Anyone can see that."

Just as Stiles was about to release the phone into Lydia's purse, she stepped forward, inches out of reach.

Tipping her chin up, Lydia stared at Malia knowingly, her expression reeking of all-knowing confidence. "I'm a little disappointed in you, Malia. I thought you'd fight for what you want."

Malia stared down her nose at Lydia. "For someone who tries her to best to avoid being linked to me, you sure seem to think you know me."

Lydia grinned then. "The social hierarchy ebbs and flows. If I want to stay on top, I have to stay aware of what's happening elsewhere on the ladder. You might be on a lower rung, but you're climbing. You know, if you cared, you and Cole could be a good power couple… But we both know you don't care."

"About the hierarchy or Cole?"

" _Both_."

Stiles looked up then, raising two thumbs-up in triumph. The phone was officially stowed back in Lydia's bag, which meant this conversation could die and never be resurrected.

"I like Cole just fine."

"'Fine' isn't exactly what they write movies about." Lydia reached behind her to close her locker. "Cole's not your 'Harry,' Sally. We both know who is." With that, she sashayed off, leaving Malia to stare after her, frowning.

"What was that about?" Stiles wondered.

"Nothing. Lydia just needs to update her movie collection." Malia turned to him. "She's got her phone, right? That's all that matters."

As she marched away, Stiles stared after her, frowning. "Uh, okay..."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Lydia's words were stuck in Malia's head when she sat down across from Cole at lunch. He was partial to the cafeteria, so they were sharing a table inside rather than her tree. Malia unloaded her own lunch while he bought his and brought it over on a tray.

"I wouldn't eat the creamed corn," she said, popping the top off her sandwich container. "That's an unnatural yellow."

He half-grinned. "Not a fan of the cafeteria food?"

"I'm not sure it qualifies as food." She dug a couple grapes out of a bag and popped them in her mouth, one at a time.

"No?" Cole reached for a grape, only to get his hand slapped away. With a laugh, he looked up, brows hiked. "We can't share?"

"Not food."

"All right." He surrendered and picked up his plastic fork to scoop up a bite of apple sauce. "How are you feeling?"

"Good." Her side was a little sore and the bruising was less than ideal, but it wasn't as bad as Saturday. Her stitches were holding, at least. "What'd you hear happened, anyway?"

"Just that a cougar attacked the store, a few people got hurt but only one died."

"The store clerk." She nodded. "I saw him when I walked in, but…" She swallowed tightly. "He was changing a light, normal stuff, you know? I ran into a friend while I was picking out a movie and the next thing I heard was a scream. We went to see what it was and…" She remembered how slack he looked, like every muscle in his body had simply stopped working. The strings of a puppet, _cut_. "We hid. Made a plan to get out. And then Jackson was there, asking for help to find The Notebook." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, long story short, I was going to distract it while they got out—"

"Distract it?" he interrupted. He stared at her. " _How?_ "

"Just making noise. I was throwing DVDs and knocking over shelves. I was hoping it would lure it away so they could make a run for the door."

"What about you?"

"I was going to run when I knew they were out."

Cole tipped his head thoughtfully. "What if you didn't make it?"

Malia pursed her lips. "Then I hope my eulogy is short."

He frowned and dropped his fork back to his food, tapping a thumb against his tray. "That's pretty intense, you know?"

Malia shrugged. "It sounds worse than it was."

"You ended up in the hospital. I'm pretty sure it's worse than how you're telling it…" He shook his head. "I know we're not anything… Well, we're something, but we're not…" He sighed. "You don't owe me anything and I get that. But, I don't want anything to happen to you that you don't walk away from."

Her brow furrowed. "You make it sound like I have a death wish. I was just trying to help."

"I get that. But you don't even sound scared."

"I was." She gritted her teeth. "I was scared out of my mind. But I wasn't the only one in that store. Jackson and Erica were there, too. I had to do something."

"Which sounds pretty damn heroic."

Malia sighed. "I really hate that word…"

"What, 'heroic'? Why?"

" _Because_. It gets applied to things that should just be second nature. Someone's in danger, you help." She waved a hand around. "Simple math."

"I thought you hated math."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

Laughing under his breath, Cole shook his head. "I missed this banter. We should hang out more."

She snorted. But before she could say anything, a shadow fell across the table and she looked up. An awkward looking Scott stood next to the table, his thumbs hooked in the straps of his bag. "Hey…" She glanced from him to Cole and back. "What's up?"

"Uh, nothing. I just…" He looked away, to a table in the distance. "Stiles still isn't talking to me. I didn't want to crowd him…"

Malia nodded. "Yeah, makes sense." She motioned to the chair next to her. "Sit."

Scott looked over at Cole briefly. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She turned to Cole, who hesitated, but eventually nodded.

Cole offered a smile. "How's lacrosse going, Scott?"

"Uh, fine." Scott shrugged his bag off and dug out a brown bagged lunch. "How's basketball?"

"Good."

He nodded and dug out a baggie of carrot sticks, sticking one between his teeth before he pulled out an apple and some cookies.

Malia frowned. "No sandwich?"

He shook his head. "After last night, we forgot to go grocery shopping. I told mom I'd pick some stuff up tonight— she's lending me the car. But…"

With a hum, Malia pushed her sandwich container toward him.

Scott's brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. But I want a carrot."

He grinned and handed her two.

Malia stuck one between her teeth and snapped it in half before turning back to Cole, who was staring at her curiously. "Thursday," she told him.

He blinked. "Thursday?"

Malia shrugged. "I'm free if you are."

Cole nodded. "Thursday works."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"You should come over."

Malia closed her locker, a brow raised. "Aren't you grounded?"

"Yeah, but…" Allison shrugged. "I'm bored. And lonely. And you owe me ice cream cake!"

Malia smiled. "There's a couple pieces left. I made sure to save some for you."

"Exactly. So, come over. You can sneak in through the window. We'll hang out, eat cake, watch a movie on my laptop or something."

"And if your dad finds out?"

"What's he going to do? Ground me _more?_ " She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, it's either that or I actually do my history essay and I… really don't want to. So? Please, come over."

"Yeah, fine, all right." She shrugged. "Scott has to do some grocery shopping tonight. He can drop me off before he goes."

" _Yes_." Allison beamed as she started backing down the hall. "Okay, so, text me when you're on your way?"

"I will." Malia turned on her heel to walk in the opposite direction and hurried her steps when she noticed Danny in the distance. Catching up, she fell into step with him. "Hey, question."

"Shoot."

"What are you doing tomorrow night?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, I don't think. Why?"

"Because that test is this Friday and I was hoping I could make up for yesterday by getting in a little after-hours studying. I know the school's open, so if you're free and up for it…"

Danny grinned wide enough that dimples formed. "Sure. Sounds good. You wanna pick something up to eat first?"

"I like the way you think."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia was surprised to find that her dad was home. She hopped out of Stiles' jeep with a wave and made her way inside, brow furrowed. He wasn't on the couch and there didn't seem to be any loose cans or bottles laying around, that was a good sign. Shiloh hurried over to her, tail wagging happily. She sniffed at Malia's legs and then took a seat, looking up at her cheerfully. Kicking off her shoes, Malia bent to pet her, scrubbing her fingers around Shiloh's ears. "Hey, girl…"

"You're home."

Malia looked up and found her dad standing at the mouth of the hallway. "Yeah… For a little while. I was gonna get some homework done and then head over to Allison's."

Henry nodded. "Not Scott's?"

Malia paused. "Uh… No…?"

"It's just that Melissa McCall mentioned you stayed over at her house on Saturday… She said that your stitches should heal nicely."

Malia's stomach dipped abruptly, and her feet felt rooted to the floor.

He walked toward her, his mouth flat. "You were hurt. You were _attacked_."

"It was an animal." She shook her head. "It was a freak accident!"

"Yeah, those happen. I'm pretty damn familiar with them." He stared at her, his eyes wide. "Why didn't you tell me? Huh? Why would you keep something—"

"You didn't pick up!" Her breathing came a little quicker and rougher then. "They called and called and you never answered! You were here, _drunk_ , and they gave up, okay? So, I went home with Melissa. And when I got home, I thought you'd be worried. I thought you'd _care_ , but you were passed out on the couch and the answering machine was full and so I— I erased the messages and the phone calls and I left it alone."

He stared at her, his brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Because it doesn't _matter_." She threw her hands up. "It was stupid and now it's over and who cares?"

" _I_ care!" He lurched forward, his hands pressed to his chest. " _I do!_ "

"Since when?" Malia's mouth trembled. "If you care so much, then why aren't you here? Why don't you pick up?" She shook her head. "Parent/teacher interviews were last night and you missed it. You _always_ miss it. Because you don't _care!_ "

"That's not true." He shook his head. "I just… I get mixed up sometimes. I get lost. But that's not… It isn't about _you_. It's not that I don't care."

"Bullshit," she snapped. Her hands balled into fists, shaking at her sides, and tears bit at her eyes. "You think I don't miss them? You think I don't wish they were here? That I don't wish it was me instead of Kylie?" Her breath stuttered. "Every day. I miss them _every. day_. And as stupid as it sounds, I miss you too. Because I think you died that day. I think I lost you too and I'm so _sick_ of wishing things were different."

He swallowed tightly. Taking a step forward, he reached out, "Malia…"

"No." She stepped back. "Just, _no_."

He stared at her a long beat, his face falling, and then he let his hand fall. The space between them never seemed so large as in that moment.

Malia moved then, past him. She walked down the hall and into her bedroom, Shiloh right behind her. Letting the door fall closed, she leaned against it and closed her eyes against the heat of her tears. When Shiloh whimpered and pawed at her leg, Malia scrubbed at her face. She reached down, picked Shiloh up, and carried her to her bed. Laying down, she curled around Shiloh and buried her face against her soft fur.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Later that afternoon, Malia caught a ride to Allison's with Scott. Arms crossed, she sat low in the seat, staring out the window.

"Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" She glanced at him. "Oh, yeah. Fine."

Scott's brow wrinkled. "You know you can talk me."

"I know." She just wasn't sure how to put it into words. Her fight with her dad still felt raw. He hadn't been home when Scott had picked her up and she wondered what that meant. Had he heard what she said and just went to the bar to drink it away? Taking a deep breath, she said, "Dad found out about Saturday."

"What?" Scott turned to her. "What'd he say?"

"Eyes on the road."

He made a frustrated noise. "I have supernatural senses."

She pointed ahead. "That you barely know how to use."

Rolling his eyes, he turned forward. "There. Better?"

"Yes." She frowned. "Anyway, he wanted to know why I didn't tell him. He was pretty mad."

"What'd you say?"

"I got mad back." She winced. "I yelled at him."

Scott hummed. "Do you feel better?"

She turned, staring at his profile, her brow furrowed. "I don't know. I thought I would, but… Is it weird that I think I feel worse?"

He shook his head. "No."

"I thought if I could just get it all out, if I finally told him how much it hurt that he wasn't there, it would change something. But… I don't think it will."

"It might. Maybe he needed to hear it from you." He glanced at her, his brows arched. "And even if it doesn't, you still needed to say it."

"Yeah." Malia's throat burned. "I just wish things were different."

Scott reached for her, keeping his other hand on the steering wheel.

Malia took his hand, biting her lip to hide a smile, and folded their fingers together. Resting them on her knee, she brought her free hand over and traced the length of each of his fingers, circling his knuckles as she went. "The scariest part wasn't telling him that it hurts… it's knowing he probably won't change it. I don't even know if he can. Maybe it's too late for that. But… I guess I'm scared he won't try anymore. That he doesn't care enough to do anything."

Scott's hand squeezed hers. "What do you want to do?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Go back in time, change it. I used to wish for that all the time. Wasted birthday candles and shooting stars…" She turned her gaze out to the road. "Now, I just want to make it to graduation and… I don't know. I have no idea what happens after that."

" _Life_." He glanced at her, half-smiling. "I'd give up my birthday candles and shooting stars for you to get them back, too. But, I think the best I can do is be here."

"You're pretty good at that." Malia leaned back against her seat. "Anyway, I don't want you to waste your wishes on something that can't happen. You should put them toward more realistic things… like winning the lottery and world domination."

"Domination?" He grinned. "Not peace?"

"I don't know, King McCall has a nice ring to it."

Scott shook his head. "I feel like leadership fits you better than me."

Malia's nose wrinkled. "Fine. We'll co-lead. That way, if I feel like beheading people, you can veto it."

He laughed under his breath. "Deal."

A few minutes later, he pulled the car to a stop just down the road from Allison's house. "You want me to pick you up after?"

Malia unclipped her seat belt and grabbed her bag up from the floor. "How long are you gonna be grocery shopping?"

He shrugged. "I've got the car all night. Mom won't be home until late, so text me when you're done."

"Okay." She reached for the door handle.

"Hey…"

She looked back.

Scott stared at her searchingly. "I'm sorry about your dad. What I said yesterday, that he should know, I only said it because I know I'd be freaking out if you got hurt and I was the last one to find out."

Malia hesitated a beat and then shifted in her seat to face him better. "Yesterday, after parent/teacher interviews, I got knocked into a car. The stitches held but now my bruises have bruises."

His brow furrowed. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because Stiles was already upset about his dad and Allison was almost run over." She shrugged and shook her head. "A few bruises is nothing."

Scott sighed. "Any other injuries I should know about?"

"Nope."

He stared at her a beat. "Does it hurt?"

"Not really. Not anymore. It hurt a little last night." She frowned. "Derek took some of the pain, but…" She appreciated the gesture, but they weren't there yet. She didn't like feeling vulnerable and, unfortunately, she was feeling that all too much lately.

Scott clenched his teeth, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "Are you sure it's safe having him stay with you?"

"It's not a permanent thing. But if Kate knows where he lives and she's just going to show up and try to kill him, we should do something."

"I know, I get that. I just…" He slumped back against his seat. "Why does it always have to be _you?_ "

"You want to blow up an air mattress and let him sleep on _your_ floor?"

Scott frowned. "Not really."

"Then let's go with what works." She shrugged. "The sooner we figure this alpha stuff out, the sooner Kate can leave and things can go back to normal… Or, our new normal, anyway."

"Yeah." He nodded. "Okay."

"I'll text you later." She pushed the door open then and climbed out. "Love you." Standing stock still on the sidewalk, she stared, wide-eyed ahead of herself. _Shit, shit, shit_.

"Love you, too."

Malia turned around, hoping she looked casual and not like a wild-eyed idiot that had just said something a little too close to home. Closing the car door, she waved, and then hurried down the sidewalk toward Allison's, all the while willing her heart to stop beating so damn loudly.

It was just words. Friends said that kind of stuff, right? He wouldn't read into it. He'd said it, too.

It was _fine_.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _apologies for the late update._ _my weekend ended up being a LOT busier than expected and i only got home yesterday, so it took me some time to finish writing and editing this. on the bright side, i still have five days of my holiday left, so i should be getting a ton of writing done and will hopefully be able to get back to my regular weekend updating schedule. and may even be able to stock up a few chapters again so i can post a little easier each week._

 _unfortunately, i wasn't able to dig into the anchor and heart monitors in this chapter. it had to be moved to the next one. sorry about the tease, but i ended up fleshing out and adding a lot more scenes to this chapter._

 _on the bright side, we FINALLY got to see scott's feelings and where they're at. *i ascend to the heavens, glowing ethereally* i was careful in writing a lot of his previous scenes, but i think there were always hints there about how he felt. a small example is when he tells allison that malia thinks he's a dork, that references chapter seven when malia is talking to him about her first impressions when they met and she says:_ "I thought you were a dork." _and Scott replies,_ "I'm pretty sure you still do." s _o, scott clearly thinks that malia's feelings for him have never grown beyond friendship. which we know is completely false._

 _i feel like a few people might not like the idea that scott and allison are still going to be 'friends with benefits' but they do enjoy each other's company and scott thinks he needs to get over malia. i'll say this though, it'll be a short-lived arrangement, because things are about get serious soon enough._

 **things to look forward to next chapter** : _argent family history; ANCHORRRS; spirals; and heart monitors ;)_

 _thanks so much for reading, please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	17. heart monitor 1

**word count** : 15,364  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : 1x05 - the tell

* * *

 **VII**

 _Love you._

 _Love you._

 _Love you_.

She said it so easily, so casually, while Scott had been struggling to swallow those words for three long years. The day Scott realized his feelings had changed, he wanted to blame it on the delirium. But when the fever broke, it was still there. The realization that nothing was ever going to be the same. Well, okay, in a lot of ways, it was. Because he was the only one who knew how he felt. Malia continued being exactly who she was, treating him as she always had, and he was stuck in suspension. Aware that how he felt for her was never going to be how she felt about him. Malia was strong, smart, and confident. In comparison, Scott felt awkward and weak. Where she could run marathons without breaking a sweat, his lungs regularly gave up on him.

Even now that things had changed, her feelings remained the same. Hadn't she said exactly that? That he would always be just Scott to her. Her best friend. And he loved that, he _needed_ that, but there were moments where he wanted so much more. Times when she reached for him, held him, leaned on him, and he wanted to wrap himself around her. Bury his face at her neck. To kiss her and have her and _know_ her in a wholly new way. More lately, with everything in chaos, he found himself searching her out. Finding her hand and holding on as tight as he could. And she let him.

Sometimes he wondered if he was being obvious. If the moments where he hesitated and lingered, when his gaze strayed to her mouth, or his sheer relief at having her there was too clear not to be seen. But things didn't change or grow. They were still exactly who they'd always been to each other. And while he liked knowing that Malia would always be that pillar in his life, he couldn't help but wonder how he was supposed to keep feeling so drawn to her knowing that it would never be reciprocated. How was he supposed to bury those feelings and move on if they never faded? Three years and they still felt just as strong as ever.

Scott walked up and down the aisles of the grocery store, absently grabbing every item he needed from his list, all the while replaying those last few moments before she left for Allison's.

"Love you, too… Love you, _too_?"

Scott shook his head. Did he sound too eager or hopeful or awkward? Had she picked up on the beat of hesitation as her words left him feeling weightless, only to crash back down to earth a second later? Malia might not say it often, but she had said it. Scott never questioned that she loved him. For her, it was a platonic love. His chest hung hollow whenever he was reminded of that. He remembered the dinner at the Argents, when Kate had asked Malia if she'd ever had feelings for him. As much as he was sure that her feelings for him were the same as they were for Stiles, he didn't want to hear her say it. The idea that she might call him her brother made his stomach drop out, so he'd changed the subject as quick as he could.

Eventually, he was going to have to deal with this, he knew that. But what was he supposed to do? Malia was a huge part of his life. He couldn't just cut her out. And… he didn't want to. Not really. He would just have to find a different way to get over her. Preferably one that didn't leave him talking to himself in a grocery store, replaying two little words, while he tried to figure out which box of tampons his mom wanted him to pick up.

Groaning, he dug his phone out and sent a text. —' _what brand of tampons would my mom want?_ '

Malia answered a full minute later. —' _tampax. since you're there, grab me a box of playtex. i'll pay you back later._ ' She added a winky emoticon.

Scott rolled his eyes before grabbing a box of each, whichever had the most, and tossed them in the cart. Resting his forearms on the bar, he texted her— ' _anything else you want?_ '

He paused in front of the laundry detergent and searched for what they usually used. There was a sale on, so he grabbed two and dropped them in the cart, making it rattle noisily.

His phone buzzed with Malia's reply— ' _cherry garcia'_

A slow grin formed. —' _you're eating ice cream cake!_ '

She sent an eye-roll emoji. —' _you can never have too much ice cream_ '

Shaking his head, he moved on to the next aisle, but made a mental note to grab a pint for them to share when he picked her up later.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia sat on Allison's bed, her back against the headboard and her legs stretched out in front of her. Allison's head rested against Malia's shoulder, her laptop balanced on her stomach so they could both see it. The ice cream cake was long finished, an empty container with melted puddles of ice cream and fudge sat on Allison's bedside table.

"This movie would be pointless if people didn't put so much pressure on everyone to have sex."

Allison smiled. "Yeah, that's kind of the point. Olive is just trying to fit in."

Malia grunted. "She needs better friends."

"They come around, eventually." Allison shrugged. "Anyway, movies about high school are never realistic."

"Maybe that's the appeal. Reality is usually boring."

" _Usually_ , says the girl who dodged a mountain lion a few days ago."

Malia snorted. "I think my track coach would have something to say about response time. If I was quicker, I might not have stitches."

Allison sat up then, looking worried. "Was I too heavy? Does it hurt?"

"Hardly. And no, they're fine. Opposite side." She pointed to where her stitches were and shrugged. "I'm a little surprised they haven't popped, actually. I'm not exactly the most careful person."

"Will they be healed by the time track starts?"

"Should be." Malia nodded. "I keep forgetting tryouts are soon." She eyed Allison curiously. "Have you thought about joining the team?"

"Me?" She snorted. "No, definitely not. I'll cheer you on and make an over-glittered 'Go Malia' sign, but I'm not lacing up anytime soon." She scrunched up her nose. "I only run when I have to."

Malia laughed. "Unfortunately, we don't have an archery club. Unless you want to start one."

She grinned, her dimples popping. "Maybe I will."

"I'll join. But only because I get to shoot things."

Allison nodded. "I'm pretty sure that'd be our slogan."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Scott chased after a rolling milk bottle as he stood on the fifth floor of the parking garage, fully aware that his mom's car was at least one more floor up. This was the second time he'd gotten off on the wrong floor and he was already completely over grocery shopping. Cursing at himself as the milk bottle rolled under a car, he sighed. Only to watch, confused, as the bottle rolled back to him, leaking through three distinct claw marks. Immediately, Scott felt a skittering sensation ripple down his back, and then—

A _growl_.

Without pause, he turned on his heel, and _ran_. Abandoning the groceries, he lurched toward the door leading to the stairs, but then shook his head. No, that would slow him down and leave him in a confined space. That wouldn't work. He kept running, following the road down to the next level, passing parked cars that could be hiding any number of innocent people are not-so-innocent attackers. He kept looking back over his shoulder, desperate to see if he could spot it. 'It' being, he assumed, _the alpha_. His arms pumped at his sides as he ran as quickly as he could, the muscles along his legs drawn so tight they hurt. His lungs were burning, panic beginning to flood his system. Calm. He needed to stay _calm_. If he shifted, he might be seen, or he could hurt someone without meaning to.

What did Derek say? That he needed to anchor himself to something or someone that brought him peace, that made him feel safe.

Shaking his head, he muttered to himself, " _Eyelash, Star Wars, burnt cookies, red shirt_."

He could hear footsteps gaining behind him, claws tearing into cement. Scott's heart jumped up into his throat and he took an abrupt turn, his feet stumbling, nearly sending him to the ground.

" _Eyelash, Star Wars, burnt cookies…_ "

He passed a sign saying he was on the third floor and when he was sure he was mostly out of range, he slowed down and darted behind a car, crouching down low. His heart was pounding so hard it ached. His claws were out; they snagged on his shirt as he covered his chest, willing his heart to slow down.

 _Eyelash, Star Wars, burnt cookies, red shirt_.

 _Eyelash, Star Wars, burnt cookies, red shirt_.

 _Eyelash, Star Wars, burnt cookies, red shirt_.

It wasn't working. His heart was still too loud, which meant that the alpha was going to hear him and track him to exactly where he was hiding.

He tried to control his breathing like Malia showed him. That first night, in his room, with her hand against his heart. She'd breathed with him, giving him something to focus on. ' _Deep inhale, hold it, slow exhale._ ' But just as his heart felt like it was slowing down, he heard another growl.

Scott shook his head. He didn't have time for this.

Jumping up, he moved down the wall and leapt onto a car. As soon as the alarm went off, he hopped to the next one. A distraction technique. It wasn't perfect, but it should help. He ran down one full length of cars and when he reached the end, he found a marker to the second floor. If he kept going, he could make it outside, to where people were, and blend in with the crowd. But what if the alpha chased him there, too? What if he only ended up putting innocent people at risk?

Groaning, Scott quickly found himself bent behind another car, panting hard. He pressed a hand against his chest and willed his heart to slow down.

Something that brought him peace.

That made him feel safe.

Something—

Or _someone_.

( _"Hey, you furry asshole! Over here!"_

 _"Whatever this is, we'll help you with it."_

 _"You're exactly who you've always been, Scott. A good person. Nothing and no one can take that from you."_

 _"Scott, I'm not afraid of you."_

 _"I know it doesn't seem like it now, but you'll get through this."_

 _"You are_ not _alone."_

 _"I believe in you exactly as much as you deserve."_

 _"We're not afraid of you."_

 _"Because I love you!"_

 _"You'll always have me. I'm always on your side."_

 _"It's okay to get scared sometimes. We all are."_

 _"You've always been enough."_

 _"Love you."_ )

Scott's heart slowed, his claws retracted, and he felt steadier than he had in a long time. He could do this. Just not alone. Scott dug in his jeans pocket for his phone, ready to text Stiles and Malia, to ask for help, to make a plan, for advice, _something_. Only he couldn't find it. At some point, his phone had fallen out of his pocket, and he had no idea where the hell it was.

Before he could come up with a new plan, two hands suddenly gripped his shoulders, lifted him off the ground, and abruptly slammed him down on top of a car. Groaning, Scott looked up, only to have confusion swamp him.

Derek was crouched beside him, baring his teeth as he snarled. "You're dead."

Not for the first time, Scott regretted the fact that Derek Hale existed, and even more that he had become a part of Scott's life.

As Derek hopped off the car, Scott rolled himself over and climbed to his feet. " _Seriously?_ "

"Malia said you wanted help learning how to use your senses." He shrugged and walked away. "I agreed to teach you, I didn't say when."

Scott chased after him and threw his arms out. "You scared the crap out of me!"

Derek glanced at him, unmoved. "Not yet."

"O-Okay, but I was fast, right?"

"Not fast enough."

"But— But, the car alarm thing, that was smart, right?"

"It was," he admitted. "But then you froze."

"I didn't freeze!" He frowned. "I was just thinking."

"You took too long."

Scott rolled his eyes. "You said I needed an anchor. I was trying to figure out what mine was or what it could be."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "And…?"

Scott pursed his lips. "And I think I found one."

Derek stared at him. "Just spit it out, Scott. I already know who it is."

Sighing, his shoulders slumped. "Is it that obvious?"

"I can smell it on you. But even without that, _yeah_ , it's obvious." He scowled. "What I can't figure out is how _she_ doesn't know."

Scott's brow furrowed. "Maybe you're wrong then. Maybe you can only tell because you're a werewolf!"

Derek's expression was bland. "I'm pretty sure everybody _but_ Malia knows you're in love with her. Saturday, on the roof, you lost it when you thought she was hurt."

"She's my best friend, of course I was worried."

"It was more than that." Derek shook his head. "Look, an anchor is a form of power. It can keep you from shifting or it can help you funnel your energy into what you're doing. Running, fighting, healing, _whatever_. But, when your anchor is a person, they can be a distraction. If you lose them, if they're hurt, it's hard to stayed focused on anything else. That's why I choose to use anger, and why pain is always a back up."

"You said I needed something that made me feel safe. Malia does that for me." He stared at him searchingly. "It worked. Before you caught up to me, I— I calmed down. My heart slowed down and I could think clearly."

"Next time, it needs to be faster. You can't hide and hope the alpha will just _let_ you."

"I get that. I just… I'm _trying_ , okay?"

"You need to try harder. We're running out of time and there's only so much I can do."

Scott sighed. "Look, what happened the other night, Stiles' dad getting hurt, that was my fault. I should've done something."

"Like what?" Derek cocked his head, staring at him through narrow eyes. "The Argents were there, if they'd seen you do anything—"

"That doesn't matter."

" _Yes_ , it does." Derek's expression hardened. "You're not the only one at risk here. The Argents are a threat to all of you. If they find out you're a werewolf, they might just eliminate Malia and your little friend Stiles, too. Just to tie up loose ends."

Scott's mouth fell open. "Can… Can they do that?"

"You need to stop thinking of them like they're everyone else. They operate by their own set of rules." He shook his head. "Look, I know you need help figuring this stuff out, but I am what I am because of birth. You were bitten. Teaching someone who was bitten takes time. I don't even know if I _can_ teach you."

"Just tell me what I have to do."

"The full moon is coming. Find out what your triggers are and test them. Your anchor needs to be simple. That means _not_ hiding behind a car for five minutes. Pick one thing, _one_ moment, something that levels you out. And make sure it works. Once you can do that, you need to figure out how to _un_ do it."

Scott frowned. "What?"

"You don't just need to keep from shifting. You have to be able to shift at will, too. Your anchor can ground you; it can give you the control you need. But if it doesn't work, then you need to exercise other options. That means you either get angry or you get hurt. If you go that route, then you'll have to tap into a primal rage to trigger the shift."

Scott nodded. "But if Malia is my anchor, I can shift too, right? If I need to. If… If I need to use those abilities?"

"Being a werewolf isn't something you just use when it's convenient. It's what you are, it's _who_ you are now. The sooner you accept that, the better." Derek poked his chest for emphasis. "If you want to live, if you want to protect your friends, then you need to stop fighting this. You're a werewolf, Scott… There's no changing that."

Taking a deep breath, he nodded.

"Good." He turned on his heel to leave then. "Some advice? Your anchor will be a lot more stable if you're honest with her."

Scott's brows hiked. " _What?_ No, I— I can't _tell_ her."

Derek didn't answer.

Scott watched him go, his shoulders slumping.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Who even has a rideable lawn mower? Did he have to rent that specifically for this cheese-filled moment?"

Allison grinned. "I think it's cute. It's a big gesture."

"It's an _expensive_ gesture. I'd take a pint of ice cream over that any day."

Allison squinted at her, unconvinced. "So, if someone you liked showed up under your window, blasting a love song, you'd turn them away?"

"I live in a one-story house and if they blasted music outside my window, I'd probably set Shiloh on them… Anyway, a lot of 80's romance movies were full of sexism and misogyny and a gross amount of date rape."

"Any amount of date rape is gross."

"True."

Allison frowned. "I think you just ruined this movie for me."

Malia snorted. "No, it was good."

"But…?"

"But rideable lawn mowers aren't cost effective. If someone I liked showed up on one of those, they'd need to actually mow my lawn _and_ theirs just to get their money's worth."

"Do you even have a lawn mower?"

"Probably. Somewhere." Malia shrugged. "I think my mom used to have a push-mower. She was really hands-on with that kind of stuff."

"Huh."

Malia stared at her. "Your family has one, don't they?"

A pink flush filled Allison's cheek. "We have a really big lawn," she defended.

Laughing, Malia fell back against the pillows. "I need to see it. Not now, but when you're not grounded."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "I'll drive it over to your house one day and play the least sexist song I can find."

"Be still my heart."

A knock echoed from the door then and both girls froze.

Malia and Allison's gaze moved to the door and then to each other before they were both scrambling off the bed. Allison shuffled Malia into the closet and closed it before making her way to the door.

"Allison?" Kate's voice called out.

"Uh, coming. Coming!" The swing of the door opening could be heard. "Hey…" Allison greeted, her voice awkward.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Uh, nothing. Just… doing homework, sending some emails."

Malia watched through the slats in the door as Allison took a seat at her desk and moved her mouse to get the screen to light up. Vaguely, Malia found herself thinking that _of course_ Allison didn't think a ride-on lawn mower was a big deal. She had a laptop _and_ a PC. Malia's own computer sounded like a trash compactor regurgitating lunch whenever it got overheated.

"Yeah?" Kate stepped into view. "Emailing the boyfriend?"

"No." Allison hunched forward as she started typing. "I'm emailing PETA about how my wing-nut father gunned down an innocent mountain lion in the school parking lot."

Kate fiddled with a few knick-knacks in her reach. "And that wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you're grounded and you can't see Scott?"

Allison looked up and turned in her seat. "You know, Scott isn't the only person in my life. I have friends that I could be hanging out with, too. There's Lydia and Malia and—"

"I have to admit, I'm a little surprised Malia is still on the short-list. She was pretty pissed after that dinner."

"You mean after you accused Scott of stealing from you?" Allison's brows hiked. "Of course she was. He's her best friend and _you_ —"

"I know, I know. I made a mistake!" Kate held her hands up apologetically. "All I'm saying is that she seems like the type of person to hold a grudge…"

"Malia doesn't blame me for what happened." Crossing her arms, Allison leaned back against her chair. "How she feels about _you_ is probably different."

Kate laughed, amused. "Good thing I don't hold myself accountable to the opinions of teenagers." She pivoted to face her better and cocked her head. "Does it ever bother you?"

"What, that she doesn't like you?"

"No. Although I'd like to think I grow on people, _eventually_." She shrugged. "But what I meant was how close they are… your friend and your boyfriend."

"Scott's not my boyfriend."

Malia's brow furrowed. _Huh?_

"I mean…" Allison tilted her chin, looking entirely defiant. "We're not like that anymore. We talked and we decided that we didn't want it to be serious."

"As in… you want it to be _casual?_ "

"Maybe I do."

Kate hummed. "And that has nothing to do with Malia?"

Allison shrugged. "I don't know what you mean."

Kate grinned knowingly. "Kid, come on… You can talk to me." She took a seat on the edge of Allison's desk. "It's hard liking someone that you know isn't as into you. I've been there."

Allison's gaze skittered to the closet before quickly returning to Kate. "It's not like that. I like Scott, but it was never really a thing. Honestly, I think we work better as friends."

"All right. But if you want to talk about it… You know where to find me."

"Yeah. I do." Allison shifted to face her computer again. "Anyway, I should really get back to my homework."

Kate flipped a book open and then closed. "What are you working on? Can I help?"

"Uh, a history project." Allison waved at the computer screen vaguely. "And I just… want to be left alone, actually."

"Come on... What kind of history project?"

Allison sighed. "I have to come up with a report that has some relevance to my own family history."

"Specific to your family?"

Malia tensed.

"Why? Do you have any ideas?"

Kate maneuvered behind Allison and leaned over her shoulder, balancing a hand on the edge of the desk. "Type this in: ' _La Bête_ _du Gévaudan_.'"

"The beast of Gévaudan." Allison typed it in. "What is this?"

"It's an old French legend that, believe it or not, has something to do with your family."

Malia could see the screen; the writing was too small to read from this distance, but there was a clear drawing of an oversized wolf. She clenched her teeth and felt her heartrate pick up.

"' _In 1766 in a province of Lozere, la Bête_ _killed over a hundred people_ …'" Allison read.

Kate leaned closer. "Mysterious animal attacks, just like a certain town called Beacon Hills."

"So, what was it? The animal?"

"Nobody knows for sure." Kate shook her head. "But, I can tell you one thing. It definitely wasn't a mountain lion. What's it look like to you?"

Allison took her time staring at the picture, a hand tucked against her neck. Until finally, she said, "It looks like— a _wolf_."

Malia closed her eyes as she was overwhelmed with a feeling of dread.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After picking up the groceries that were spilled all over the 5th floor parking lot, Scott made a second trip to the store to replace what had broken in the scuffle. He had just finished putting everything away when the landline rang. Plucking the phone from its perch on the kitchen wall, he tucked it between his shoulder and ear. "Hello?"

"Hey," Malia said. "Did your phone die or something? I've been texting and getting no answer."

Scott sighed. "Or something. I kind of lost it. It's a long story…"

"Oh. Well, can you still pick me up?"

"Yeah, definitely." He nodded. "You're done at Allison's? Already?"

"We watched a whole movie. Also, I just spent like twenty minutes stuck in her closet because her aunt decided she wanted to talk family history…" She sighed. "Allison's downstairs distracting her with dessert. Any chance you can pick me up soon?"

"I'll leave now. I can be there in ten minutes."

"Great. Don't forget my ice cream."

Scott snorted. "You know, I had to buy this twice tonight. It was the last pint left, too."

"My hero. But, why twice? Did you eat the first one?"

"No." He shook his head. "Actually, I'll tell you when I get there. It's a long story, too. Uh, you want me to honk or…?"

"Let's not. If they catch you outside, they'll think something's up. I'll just keep an eye out for you."

"Okay. I'll be there soon."

Hanging up, Scott grabbed his keys off the counter and started for the door. He paused and turned back, however, bee-lining it for the fridge. With a pint of Cherry Garcia and two spoons, he set off for the car, smiling to himself.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia waited until she saw Scott pull up out front before she scrawled out a quick message on a sticky note, stuck it on Allison's computer screen, and then snuck through the window. She walked carefully down the slanted roof until she reached the very edge and then hopped down, landing in a crouch. Glancing back at the house to see that nothing seemed to have changed— at least, no angry Argents came out, guns loaded— she started down the driveway. There was a strange fog that had formed, masking much of her surroundings. It was dark enough that the houses already just looked like vague outlines, but with the added fog, she felt like she was walking through the set of a horror movie.

When a rustling noise came from behind her, she paused. A skittering sensation ran down her back, like tiny spider's feet. Her stomach dropped as she looked back over her shoulder, staring at a manicured bush through narrowed eyes. Could be a cat, she thought. A tabby out looking for a live snack. Whatever it was, it made every inch of her body tense. She should walk away— even run away. So what if it was just a cat? Wasn't it better to flee and not find out? Instinct told her that was the smarter plan, but her feet moved toward the sound. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest and a cold droplet of fear cut a path from her throat to her navel.

 _Go back, go back, go back_.

What was it she said to Cole? ' _You make it sound like I have a death wish_.' Maybe, she did.

She heard a click from behind her, a car door opening.

But ahead, there was a menacing growl.

Malia stumbled backwards before turning abruptly on her heel and racing down the driveway. The pavement was slick and her shoes lost grip for a second, sending her careening to the left. She threw her arms out and was quick to rebalance, digging the toes of her shoes down and racing forward.

Scott had climbed out of the car, his hand gripping the top. He stared at her, his brow furrowed.

She could feel the heavy sensation of something behind her, _chasing_ her. The sound of its feet hitting the ground was hard to ignore, as was the wet, snarling growl it gave. Waving at Scott, she said, "In! Get in!"

His eyes widened as he backed up, falling into the driver's seat.

Malia's heart felt like it was beating too fast, like it would escape from her chest and explode in a gruesome flurry. Her legs were moving quicker than they ever had before, but it still felt like it wasn't enough. Like time was slowing down and there was nothing but her heart echoing in her ears, surrounded by her panting breaths.

Scott's expression twisted up with worry. She could see his lips moving, forming around her name, and she _dove_. Head first through the door, she landed on top of him and pulled her legs in just as he yanked the door shut. Malia turned over so she was seated in his lap, her knees drawn up to her chest, the toes of her shoes pressed against the door. His arm crossed her back, hand hooked around the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He reached up and caught her chin, turning her to face him. His fingers climbed her cheek and fanned out. " _Breathe!_ I've got you."

Malia stared at him, wide-eyed, and struggled to catch her breath. "Where— Where is it? Where'd it go?"

Scott turned his head, searching, but the windows were fogged up. " _There!_ " He looked past her to the rear-view mirror, and then swiveled his head to look out the back window. "It's behind us."

"Start the car." She nodded frantically. "Run it the hell over."

"Okay, okay!" His hand left her shoulder in favor of the keys still stuck in the ignition. "Wait… It's moving."

Malia turned, squinting through the windows. Her hand fell to Scott's chest, balling up the fabric of his shirt in her palm. She could see something moving; a large, shadowy figure slowly crossing one side of the car until it reached them. The glow of red eyes was visible. Scott's arm wrapped around her, his hand pressed against her side, drawing her closer. She leaned into him, her cheek meeting his, as they watched the alpha reach out. A finger met the window and spun a slow, sinister circle. _No_. A spiral. And when it was finished, the alpha left, running off into the night, leaving only psychological damage in its wake.

Slumped with relief, Malia's body gave out as she fell against Scott. "Jesus fucking Christ," she muttered. Pressing her forehead to his temple, she tried to breathe. Her lungs felt shaky and her chest too tight, but the weight of before, the awareness that something dangerous was close, ebbed.

Scott's hand was shaky as it wrapped around her arm and squeezed. "Are you okay?"

She laughed, a cracked huff more than anything. "Does terrified count?"

"Yeah." He turned his head and searched out her eyes, but this close, the tips of their noses grazed, and she could feel his own panting breaths against her mouth. Scott reached up and brushed her hair back from her face. "I thought… I— I could hear your heart. It was so loud. And when I looked out, you were walking toward the bushes. I knew something wasn't right."

"What the hell did it want? What was the point? I mean, scare tactics?" She shook her head. "Is it bored?"

"I don't know. But… I don't like this. It was chasing you."

"You were here, too. It could've been sending a message or something."

"Like what?"

Malia sighed. "I don't know. But I vote we get out of here."

Scott nodded. "Yeah, okay." He stared up at her. "My place?"

It was late and Malia should probably go home, but right now, the last thing she wanted to be was alone. And considering her dad wasn't there when she left… "Yeah. Your place works." Letting him go, she shifted around, using her foot against the door to leverage herself up and over the center console until she fell into the passenger seat. It took her a few tries to get her seatbelt on, her hands less steady than she would've liked. Scott pulled the car onto the road and started for home. His gaze bounced from the road to the mirror to her repeatedly, not quite sure where to focus.

"Distract me?" she asked.

"Okay. How?"

"I don't know. Just…" She rubbed her hands up and down her thighs, digging her fingers in around her knees. "What happened before? Why'd you have to buy the ice cream twice?"

"Uh…" His brow wrinkled. "It was Derek. He was chasing me through the parking lot, trying to make a point, I guess. I got away, mostly. I ran for it and I was doing pretty good. I set off a bunch of car alarms to mask my heartbeat. But then I tried to hide. I was worried I might shift, so I tried to calm down. I used my mantra—"

"Mantra?"

"Yeah. _Eyelash, Star Wars, burnt cookies, red shirt_. It kind of worked, a bit, but not enough. So, then I thought about what Derek said. That I need one anchor and it needs to be something that makes me feel safe. And… Well, I found one, but it took a while and, uh, he caught up."

"What'd he do?"

"Scared the shit out of me." Scott snorted. "He wasn't sorry about it either. He said I need to test my anchor, see if it'll really work. Not just to stop the shift, but to help activate it, too."

"How are we supposed to test it?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. But he says I'm running out of time 'cause the full moon is coming." Sighing, he squeezed the steering wheel. "How am I supposed to stay calm when the alpha is chasing you? Or Derek's popping up out of nowhere. I feel like I'm always on edge."

"Maybe that's the point. Don't get me wrong, it sucks, but… That's when you need your control the most, when you're not expecting it or when it's affecting the people closest to you." She nodded. "We can figure this out. We'll bring Stiles in. He'll have a plan."

"Stiles still isn't talking to me."

Malia slumped back against her seat. Yet another problem they had to figure out.

Up ahead, she could see Scott's house come into view and she felt a nervous prickling sensation break out over her skin. "How do we know it didn't run ahead and now it's circling your house…" She glanced at him. "Or inside your house?"

Scott swallowed. "We don't."

"Okay, so… We make a run for it. We get inside, make sure all the doors and windows are locked."

"What if it's inside?"

"Then we trap it in a room or something."

Nodding, he let out a sigh. "Okay."

Scott pulled the car up as close to the porch stairs as he could get it. "Ready?"

Malia unclipped her seatbelt and reached for the door handle. "Ready."

" _Now_."

They jumped out of the car at the same time, circled around to the front, raced up the stairs and across the porch and fell through the front door together. Scott scrambled to shut it behind them while Malia ran to the back door, double checking that it was, in fact, locked. Finding it was, she breathed out a relieved sigh, and then walked back through the kitchen. There, she grabbed a knife from the block.

She found Scott in the living room, testing out the windows.

"Everything down here is good." He glanced at the knife and raised an eyebrow.

Malia shrugged. "Can't be too safe."

Together, they climbed the stairs, with Scott taking the lead by a few inches.

"Do you hear anything?"

"Your heart is racing," he whispered.

She pressed a hand flat against his back. "So is yours."

He glanced back at her over his shoulder and then stepped down the hallway, his eyes darting around. "I think it's okay… Maybe."

Malia bit her lip and nudged him forward, toward his bedroom.

Scott walked toward it, his fingers outstretched for the handle. Taking a deep breath, he shoved the door open and stepped inside. When there was no immediate attack, his shoulders slumped in relief.

"The window." Malia nodded her chin toward it.

He crossed the room in three long strides, yanked the open window closed, and then lowered the blinds. "I think we're okay."

Malia followed after him, her gaze wandering the dark room, hand gripped tight around the knife.

Scott turned the lamp on and—

Derek was sitting in a chair next to the bed.

Scott let out a strangled, " _Shit_ ," and jumped back, his arm stretched behind him, hand hooked around Malia's hip. "You _seriously_ need to stop doing that!"

Derek stared up at him a moment before his gaze skirted past Scott to Malia. His eyebrow ticked up. "Planning on using that knife?"

"I haven't decided yet." She gritted her teeth and flexed her fingers along the hilt. "I'm starting to think 'lurking' is just your default setting."

He rolled his eyes. "What happened with the alpha? Did he talk to you?"

"Yeah. We had a nice conversation about the weather." Scott scoffed. "No, we didn't talk!"

"It was hiding outside of Allison's house." Malia's brow furrowed. "If it wanted to send a message, why did it choose the _hunter's_ house?"

"To show he wasn't scared. Not of them or of you." Derek looked between them. "Did you get anything off of him? An impression? Something."

Scott shook his head. "What do you mean?"

Derek let out an impatient sigh through his nose. He pushed up from the chair and walked toward them. "Remember your other senses are heightened. Communication doesn't have to be _spoken_. What kind of _feeling_ did you get from him?"

Scott nodded, his eyes darting around. "Okay, yeah. I… There was anger."

"Focused on you?"

He paused. "No, not— not me. And not Malia, either."

She stepped out from behind him and moved to his side.

Scott turned to meet her eyes, his brows hiked. "But it was definitely anger. I could _feel_ it." He looked back to Derek. "Especially when it drew the spiral."

"Wait, the what?" Derek perked up. "What'd you just say?"

"He drew a spiral in the condensation on the window," Malia explained. "Right next to us, like he wanted us to see it."

Derek's gaze moved away and his face fell thoughtfully.

"What?" Malia's mouth screwed up. "What's that face for?"

"Nothing."

"No, it was something." Scott frowned. "You look like you know what it means."

Derek stepped past them then. "It's nothing, never mind."

Scott turned, reaching for Derek's arm. "Wait a second. You can't do that. You can't ask us to trust you and then just keep things to yourself."

Derek's brows hiked and he reached for the door. "Doesn't mean anything."

"You're lying." Malia crossed her arms. "I think we deserve better than that."

Derek paused.

"You buried your sister under a spiral," Scott said.

Turning around, Derek faced them.

"What does it mean?"

Derek sighed and pulled the door open. "You don't wanna know."

He left then, those ominous words hanging in the air.

Malia shook her head and looked at Scott. "Well, that was pointless… Please tell me we didn't leave my ice cream in the car."

Scott winced. "I'll go get it."

" _No_." She grabbed for him, her fingers folding around his forearm. "It's just ice cream. Let's not test fate."

He half-smiled. "I need to go lock the door behind Derek anyway. And the car is parked pretty close."

Hesitating, she chewed her lip.

Scott covered her hand with his own. His face was soft and knowing as he said, "You can watch me from the door."

"Fine…" She handed him the knife. "Take this, too."

Grinning now, he accepted it and nodded. "Okay."

They left his room and made their way back downstairs, with Malia searching the bottom floor for any sign that someone was still lurking around. She wouldn't be surprised if Derek was hiding in some dark corner somewhere. Then again, he seemed pretty eager to leave. Whatever that spiral meant, it didn't sound like it was a good sign.

Scott pulled the front door open and a shaft of cold air flooded in.

Malia shivered and crossed her arms. "Be quick."

He nodded and stepped out onto the porch, his looked left and then right, searching for any sign of the alpha. After a beat, he walked toward the car, hopping off the stairs and circling around to the passenger side. He popped the door open and searched around inside.

Malia stepped outside, her fingers dug into her arms.

Finally, after what seemed like entirely too long, Scott popped back out of the car, holding the ice cream carton up triumphantly. Grinning, he closed the door, and made his way back to her. "Barely melted. I don't know where the spoons are, though."

Malia grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him inside the house, backing up as she went. It wasn't until the door slammed closed and the deadbolt was turned that she felt a little safer. "Okay." She walked to the kitchen then, dug out a pair of spoons, and returned to the base of the stairs. "What time's your mom off?"

"Late. But, she's getting a ride from one of the other nurses, so I don't have to pick her up."

Malia nodded and started climbing the stairs. "We'll set an alarm."

"For what?"

"For when she should be home. Then we can keep an eye out, make sure she gets inside."

"Oh. _Smart_." He followed her up the stairs. "Hey, you said something happened at Allison's. What was it?"

Sighing, she led the way into his room and kicked off her shoes. She crawled across his bed and took a seat with her back against the pillows, her legs crossed beneath her. "So, Allison's working on a history project, right?" Her brows hike meaningfully. "Something that relates to her _family_ …"

Scott nodded. He joined her on the bed, sitting next to her, his legs outstretched in front of him.

"Kate told her to look up some French thing. The Beast of Gev-something. Anyway, it's definitely a werewolf and I guess one of Allison's ancestors killed it." Malia peeled the top off the ice cream and dug a spoon in. "I don't know, it just felt like Kate was testing things out. She plants the seed and then she sees what comes of it. Let's Allison do her own research and when she comes asking questions, Kate can fill in the blanks however she wants."

Scott frowned. He reached for the second spoon and dug out a bite of his own. "So, what do we do?"

Her shoulders slumped. "I don't know. We can't exactly tell her werewolves are real. Even if we do and we give her proof, how do we know she'll side with us? What if it just scares her and sends her running to her family?"

Scott sighed. "I don't think there's an easy solution to this."

"Yeah. Which _sucks_. Why can't any of this be easy?"

He half-smiled and bumped her elbow with his. "At least we're dealing with it together, right?"

Her mouth twitched. "Right."

Scott clinked their spoons together. "Maybe we should just do what we've been doing… Be her friend, show her we're normal people."

"Yeah." She paused and her gaze wandered over to him. "Hey, you and Allison, are you two still… together?"

Scott looked up, his eyes wide. "What?"

"It's just… She said something to Kate. That you and her were just casual." Her brow furrowed. "When did that happen?"

"Uh…" His face flushed. "Monday. We talked about it after you and Stiles left and… We, uh, we like each other, but we don't… We're not…" He stared at her searchingly. "She said you had the right idea, with Cole. That we could still have all the benefits but not be… serious. So, we're gonna try that."

" _Oh_." She frowned. "You're okay with that? I mean… I thought you really liked her."

"I do. I just… Maybe not as much as I _should_." He shook his head. "You know what I mean?"

Malia's brow furrowed. "Was this her idea or your idea?"

"I think it was kind of mutual." He sighed. "Allison's great. She's smart and nice and beautiful. But…"

"But?"

"I…" He met her gaze for a long, heavy moment. Malia's heart beat a loud staccato against her chest. "Uh…" He blinked and looked away. "Everything is so crazy right now. I just feel like it's not the best time to be dating. Not until I have more control or we figure out how to deal with the alpha."

Malia stared at his profile for a moment and then nodded. "That makes sense."

He looked up, a brow raised. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "And she's okay with it?"

"The benefits part was her idea."

Malia snorted. "I guess this people with benefits thing is catching on."

He half-smiled.

Scooping out another bite of ice cream, Malia sunk back against the pillows once more. "Tonight was weird."

"Really weird," he agreed.

"Plus, you lost your phone."

Scott groaned. "Don't remind me."

Malia handed him the ice cream, snorting when he scooped out an oversized bite.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Scott woke to the vibration of Malia's phone rattling against the bedside table. He reached for it, thumbing the volume down button before it could let out a shriek that would wake her up. The alarm was to let him know his mom should be home soon. He settled his head back against the pillow, but kept his ears open for any approaching cars. So far, the outside world was mostly quiet. Malia was asleep next to him, resting on her stomach, her face pressed against his side, arm stretched over his stomach. He smiled down at her, reaching out to gently brush her hair back from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. She let out a little sigh and rubbed her face against him.

That moment when he could see the alpha right behind her, his heart had lodged itself in his throat and _froze_. He swore he stopped breathing until she was in his arms and the door was closed behind her. It seemed like the last few weeks had been a roller coaster. As soon as he started to feel safe, something went wrong, and they were sent plummeting downward with no guarantee they would ever come back up. As much as they walked away unscathed, he couldn't help feeling like their luck was running out and eventually, they wouldn't be able to outrun the inevitable.

In the distance, a rumbling engine could be heard. Scott looked up at the window and then down, to Malia. Trying not to wake her up, he carefully extracted himself. Taking her wrist, he lifted her arm, laying it back down against the bed as he slid out. Pulling the blanket up around her, he tucked it at her shoulders and padded across the floor. He took the stairs two at a time and hopped off three from the floor. Hurrying to the door, he unlocked it and swung it open. His mom was just climbing out of her co-worker's car, hooking a bag over her shoulder as she turned to face him. Scott stepped out onto the porch, tense and on guard as she crossed the yard. She had to circle the front end of the car to reach the porch steps and shook her head as she saw him.

"Could you park any closer?"

He half-smiled and reached for her bag. "Sorry. There were a lot of groceries." He waited for her to walk inside before following her. Closing and locking the door, he felt some of the tension bleed away. "How was work?"

"Long." She unzipped her jacket and hung it up as she kicked her shoes off. Dragging the elastic from her hair, she ran her fingers through it and then eyed him curiously. "What're you still doing up? You've got school tomorrow."

"I know. I just wanted to make sure you got home." He shrugged. "Keys are in the dish. I filled it up before I got home."

"Great." She smiled. "I'm going to have something to eat before I go to bed…" She reached out for her bag and then eyed him curiously. "Did you need anything? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Fine." He nodded quickly. "I should get to bed. Early morning. Night."

"Goodnight…"

Scott hurried up the stairs and down the hall. He slipped back into his room quietly, closing and locking the door behind him. Malia was still exactly as he'd left her, lit in a faint blue. He crawled back into bed and pulled the blanket around him, turning over onto his side. She shifted around and scrunched her nose. "She home?"

"Yeah," he whispered.

"No problems?"

"Nope. She's fine."

Malia nodded faintly and fell right back to sleep.

Scott smiled to himself, shook his head, and let his eyes fall closed.

He listened to his mom moving around downstairs, humming under her breath as she put together a sandwich. Content that she was safe, he turned his attention elsewhere. Malia's steady heartbeat filled his ears, drowning out all else. His breathing fell into sync with hers and in just a few minutes, he was lulled to sleep.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

It was early when Malia woke, the sun just barely creeping through the window. She tipped her head back and let out a tired sigh. As much as she didn't want to get out of bed, she needed to get home and change. But she was so warm and comfortable…

"What time's it?" Scott's voice rumbled against her neck.

Malia shivered, her hand flexing around the edge of the bed. His chest was pressed against her back, his arm stretched over her. Squinting at the alarm clock next to her, she frowned. "Almost six."

"If we go now, I can drive you home, sneak the car back before mom notices."

It was better than her walking home, but… Malia groaned. "But I'm warm…"

He laughed, thick and rough with sleep.

Malia smothered a smile and turned herself onto her back, shifting around to give him more room. He stayed on his side, his arm falling atop her stomach. She stared up at him in the muted morning light, his hair ruffled and his face soft, eyes half-closed and cloudy with sleep. Her heart rattled around in her chest, that bowling ball of feelings growing in her stomach. "Hey."

He propped his head up on his hand. "Hey."

"We weren't mauled to death in our sleep."

He laughed under his breath. "Nope."

"Tick one in the win column."

Yawning, he scrubbed his fingers over his eyes. "Day's only starting."

"That's the spirit." She stretched her legs out and took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's go. I need a shower and some different clothes."

Scott nodded. And then paused. "Uh, why don't you go first and I'll… change."

She raised an eyebrow. "If you fall back asleep…"

"Nope. Won't do that. Totally awake. Just…" He sat up, the blanket pooling in his lap. "Yeah, uh, I'll meet you downstairs in like… five minutes."

"Okay…" Malia eyed him for a moment before slipping out of bed. She circled around, grabbing up her clothes and balling them up as she went. The sweat pants and t-shirt she was wearing were too warm and comfortable to change out of now. Grabbing her phone off the bedside table, she walked to the door and tucked her feet inside her shoes. "Five minutes."

"Yup." He nodded, hunched forward and drumming his hand against his knee.

Leaving his room, she closed the door quietly behind her, and walked down the hall to the stairs. She glanced quickly at Melissa's closed bedroom door before sneaking down the stairs, wincing at every creak and whine. Just as she reached the bottom, she heard, "Scott?"

Malia froze, her eyes wide.

"What're you doing up this early? Are you feeling o…?" Melissa trailed off and Malia turned her head to see her standing a few feet away, her brows hiked. "I should be more surprised, but somehow… I'm not."

"It's not what you think." Malia smiled awkwardly. "I had a fight with my dad. I… I did something stupid and it backfired and he was mad and then I was mad and, uh… I left. And I wasn't ready to go home, I'm sorry." It wasn't a lie, exactly, but it wasn't the whole truth either. Which left her feeling off and wrong, because lying to Melissa was not something she did often, or ever if she could help it.

Melissa took a deep breath and then let it out slowly, her expression softening. "Come on." She nodded her head toward the kitchen. "You can tell me what happened… And then we can talk about why you skipped on Monday."

Sighing, Malia nodded. She walked to the kitchen, dragging her feet along the way. While Melissa poured herself a mug of coffee, Malia lingered at a distance, hands still clutching her clothes.

"What was the fight about?"

"Saturday." Malia shrugged. "I didn't tell him what happened… or that I was in the hospital."

Melissa frowned. "But we left messages… More than a few, actually."

"I deleted them." Malia chewed her lip. "When I got home, he was passed out on the couch and… He didn't know. He didn't hear the messages, so as far as he was concerned, nothing had changed."

Melissa stared at her searchingly. "And that hurt you."

"I…" Her throat burned. "I wanted him to care." She swallowed tightly. "I wanted him to worry about me. But he didn't."

"Because he didn't know." Melissa's voice was gentle and calming.

Malia shook her head. "You don't have to sugar coat it. He checked out a long time ago and he's okay with that. He's okay with not being involved. I thought he was changing, but I was wrong. He's not. He's just trying to make himself feel better. So, he talks to me sometimes, he _notices_ me sometimes. But that's it. It's just brief moments in between the next six-pack when he realizes oh, hey, someone else lives in my house. That's _it_."

"Malia…" She pushed off the counter and walked to her. "What happened?"

"I told him the truth." Her mouth wobbled. "That he doesn't care and I'm tired of waiting for him to."

Melissa searched her face a moment and then nodded. She pulled Malia into a hug, her arms wrapping around her tightly.

Malia's chin hooked over Melissa's shoulder and she closed her eyes, sinking into the hug. "Sometimes I think… he wishes it was me. That he still had my mom or Kylie… That maybe he'd be different for them." Tears burned her eyes and dribbled out the corners.

"No." Melissa's arms tightened. "He's grieving and depressed and not coping, but that's not a reflection on you. He needs help. But you deserve to be loved. Do you understand?" She pulled back then and met Malia's eyes. "This is not your fault."

Malia nodded, a stuttered jerk of her head.

Smiling softly, Melissa reached up and rubbed away her tears with her thumbs. "Now, you wanna talk about what happened Monday?"

Sighing, she licked her lips. "It was Allison's birthday. I know that's not an excuse, but… I don't know. I think I still felt weird after Saturday and I just… I wasn't ready to be back at school. And Allison, she's never really had friends. I wanted to do something for her that she could remember. I wanted to make it special."

"I get that. And trauma has a weird way of manifesting. But next time, you talk to someone. If you needed a day off from school, okay. Talk to me. We'll figure something out. But all of you skipping, not a great plan. Especially when you have parent/teacher interviews."

"Yeah, you're right." She sniffled and rubbed a hand under her nose. "I'm doing okay, though. My grades, I mean. Math is up and I'm passing everything else." She half-smiled. "My math teacher actually said some pretty nice things."

"Yeah?" Melissa brightened. "See?"

Malia's smile withered. "Dad didn't show up. I told him about it ahead of time, he said he'd be there, but…" She shrugged.

Disappointed but not surprised, Melissa nodded. "What matters is that you know your hard work is paying off." She brushed Malia's hair back from her face affectionately. "I'm proud of you."

Malia's heart squeezed. "Thanks."

Melissa glanced past her shoulder then and her eyebrow raised. "And _you_ … Is this why you were up so late?"

Malia turned to see Scott standing in the doorway, his eyes wide.

"Uh…" Scott attempted a smile. "She was really upset."

"Uh-huh." Melissa looked between them. "Why don't you shower and get changed? You can drop me off at work and then take the car for the day."

"Really?" Scott perked up. "Uh, okay. Cool." He started backing up.

" _Scott?_ "

He paused. "Yeah?"

"I appreciate that you were being a good friend, but the next time Malia stays over, for any reason, you take the couch…" Melissa's expression was serious. "And you tell me."

Scott nodded. "Okay. I will."

While Scott hurried off, Malia waved a thumb at the fridge. "Orange juice?"

Melissa waved at her. "Help yourself."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

On the ride to her house, Malia texted Stiles to let him know what was going on.

Stiles sent a shocked emoji, followed by —' _chased you? did it catch you?'_

She thumbed back a response. —' _no I got into the car in time. but it left this weird spiral on the glass. we told derek about it and he looked freaked!_ '

—' _derek? what was he doing there?_ '

Malia could practically feel Stiles' disapproval through the phone. —' _he was hiding in scott's room. i don't know how he knew, but he did. he wouldn't tell us what the spiral meant. anyway the point is, things are getting serious. i don't know if it was following scott or trying to prove a point or what it was doing but we can't afford to be divided right now. i know you're still mad but we promised scott we would help him through this. i can't do this on my own_ '

When Stiles didn't reply, Malia let out an irritated sigh and shoved her phone in her bag.

"Stiles?" Scott asked knowingly.

"Yeah." She frowned. "I'll talk to him at school. He's just being stubborn."

Scott glanced at her. "Last night, in the parkade, Derek said there was another way to get control. That I had to tap into this animalistic rage."

Malia shifted in her seat to see him. "What?"

"Yeah. Angry is one thing, but _rage_ …" His brows hiked. "How is that supposed to help?"

"I guess, for some people, when you get angry you get focused. I feel like that'd make for a really violent werewolf though. Wouldn't it make more sense to pick something that kept you calm and level headed?" She stared at him. "Didn't you say you found something? When you were hiding, you figured out something to focus on. What was it?"

Scott's brows hiked. "Uh… My mom."

"Oh." She nodded. "That makes sense."

"It does? I mean, yeah, it does."

Malia stared at him a beat and shook her head. "You're so weird."

"I'm just tired. I kept waking up."

"Why? Worried the alpha could show up?"

"Mm-hmm. Yeah." His hands flexed on the steering wheel. "What're you doing after school?"

"Studying with Danny. I have a test on Friday, so we're getting together to go over everything. You have a shift at the clinic, right?"

He nodded. "I was thinking, after, when you're done studying, you could come over again. If things are still weird at home, I mean."

Malia made a face. "If I stay over again, you're getting kicked to the couch, remember?"

"I can handle the couch. I just want you to be okay…" He looked at her searchingly. "Are you?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You heard me talking to your mom…"

He grimaced. "I didn't mean to, exactly. But when I realized she was up, I was trying to figure out if I should come down or not and… Yeah."

"I'm okay. I'm still upset, but… I think you were right. I needed to say it. Even if he doesn't want to hear it."

Nodding, Scott reached out. His hand found hers, their fingers folding together and this thumb gently rubbing circles.

Malia squeezed back.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

At school, Malia searched the halls for Stiles. Scott had taken off to get his books for first block, leaving her to her search. She was pretty sure it was just because he didn't want to have Stiles reject him again, though. He still wasn't answering her texts and she was tired of being ignored. Just as she was turning a corner, catching a flash of plaid in between crossing bodies and following it, she knocked into someone. Irritable, she looked up to snap at whoever was in front of her, only to find Jackson. Malia let out an exasperated sigh.

He readjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "Still learning to walk, Tate."

"Something like that." She looked him over quickly. His skin seemed paper-thin and dark bags hung beneath his eyes. "You don't look so good. Have you been skipping your vitamins?"

He snorted. "Just tired. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Trust me, I won't. But you should. A lack of beauty sleep might catch up to you."

His mouth twitched faintly. "This has been fun, but I have places to be and better people to talk to."

She stepped to the side and motioned for him to pass her by. "Don't let me stop you."

He raised an eyebrow and scoffed but continued walking.

Malia rolled her eyes.

"Friendly," a voice said.

Her gaze cut to the right, where Boyd stood in front of an open locker. "Not the word I'd use to describe Jackson." She shrugged. "Entitled asshole comes to mind."

Boyd snorted and closed his locker. "Your skating improved any?"

"Sadly, no. How's the Zamboni?"

"Still not open to the public."

"Disappointing. But, I'll wear you down." She started backing up then. "See you around, Boyd."

"Yeah, later."

Malia turned on her heel, but just as she spotted Stiles, the bell rang. "Come on," she muttered. He was halfway down the hall and she still needed to get to her locker. Deciding they would just have to talk at break, she rerouted to her locker instead.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Waiting for class to start, Malia texted Stiles an angry emoji.

"Hey." Allison poked her in the back with her pen. "I texted you last night."

"Yeah, sorry." Malia tucked her phone under the pages of her notebook and turned around in her seat. "I got caught up with homework, it was a whole thing."

"It's fine." Allison dismissed it with a wave. "I'm sorry about how weird it got at the end, with Kate. I didn't think she'd hang around for so long."

"It's cool. And hey, I finally watched 'Easy A.'"

"And now have an unearned dislike for ride-on lawn mowers."

"Totally earned," Malia argued.

Allison shook her head and bit her lip to hide a grin. "Hang out with me at lunch? I was actually reading up on that Beast of Gévaudan stuff. It's weird, but kind of cool. I think I might actually write my paper on it."

"Yeah?" Malia's brows hiked. "You think your teacher will go for it?"

"Sure." She snorted. "It's better than writing about my Great-Great-Uncle who was some big-shot cricket player."

"Hey, some people like cricket… I don't know anybody, but there's gotta be a fanbase somewhere."

Allison laughed. "Yeah, in England. Anyway, I think the homicidal wolf is a _little_ more attention-getting…"

"If you say so."

The teacher called their attention to the front of class then and Malia turned around. She tapped her pen against her notebook and frowned. She seriously needed Allison to shake this interest in her ancestor's hunting history, and fast.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

At break, Malia hurried through the halls, weaving around people until she reached Stiles' class. The same that he shared with Scott, so she was only slightly surprised to see them leaving together. Relief swamped her as she fell into step next to them. "You're talking. _Finally_."

Stiles glanced at her. "You had a point before. Actually, multiple times. Look, I was freaking out a little bit. My dad doesn't know what's going on, which means he's running around out there, stuck in the dark about what he's really up against. The other night, when he got hurt, that could just be a _small_ taste of what could happen. Not just to him, but to a lot of people." He turned to Scott, "And if this alpha is really out here chasing down you or Malia, right outside of a known hunter's house, then it's getting ballsy."

Malia nodded. "Right, which is why Derek wants Scott to work on his control."

Stiles' eyes widened. "Your continued trust in Derek never fails to bug me."

"I might not agree with his methods, but he's our best chance at teaching Scott."

"Maybe. Or maybe we can do this without him."

She frowned. "How?"

"Scott was just saying that Derek wants him to tap into some primal rage, right? Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but when he loses control, he's _consumed_ by rage." He raised his eyebrows at Scott. "You said it all went red, right? And all you wanted to do was hurt people."

Scott nodded. "Yeah. First, the bus driver then Allison and Malia in the dream… I can't remember what happened in the woods, not exactly, but I know that I'm dangerous."

"Okay, well, you ask me, I think this whole primal rage thing is _bull_. If anything, we should be trying to keep you calm."

"How?" Malia wondered.

Stiles shook Scott's shoulder. "You said you had an anchor, right? Or you think you do. It works better than the whole mantra thing?"

"Yeah. Uh, I think it does." Scott shrugged. "I didn't get to test it much before he caught me."

"Then let's test it. We'll push your triggers, all of them, and see if this anchor does anything."

"That's it?" Malia frowned. "But we've already done that."

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, but I have a _plan_ this time…"

* * *

 **…**

* * *

At lunch, Malia found herself inside, sitting with Allison and Lydia in the cafeteria.

Allison had apparently raided the library and was currently nose deep in everything she could find on _La Bête du Gévaudan_. Malia eyed each book uneasily.

Lydia, on the other hand, could not be less interested. "The _what_ of _who?_ "

" _The Beast of Gévaudan_. Listen." Allison raised the book and read aloud, "' _A quadruped wolf-like monster, prowling the Auvergne and south Dordogne areas of France during the year 1764 to 1767. La Bête killed over a hundred people, becoming so infamous that the King Louie the 15th sent one of his best hunters to try and kill it.'_ "

Malia's stomach curdled.

Lydia waved her fork. "Boring."

Allison was undeterred. " _'Even the church eventually declared the monster a messenger of Satan._ '"

"Mmm…" Lydia turned her eyes up thoughtfully before deciding, "Still boring."

"Come on…" Allison looked from her to Malia. "That's not weird or interesting?"

"Both," Malia admitted.

"See." Allison smirked at Lydia, who rolled her eyes, before returning to the book. "' _Cryptozoologists believe it may have been a subspecies of hoofed predator, possibly a mesonychid_.'"

Malia pulled a face. "Was that last word English?"

"A mesonychid is basically an extinct carnivorous mammal with hooved feet," Lydia informed her, before telling Allison, "The more you talk, the closer I am to slipping into a coma."

Allison ignored them. "' _While others believe it was a powerful sorcerer who could shape-shift into a man-eating monster_ …'" Her voice trailed off as she raised her eyes to see if they were as interested as she was.

Malia frowned. "Were bears not a big deal back then? Does France not have bears?"

Lydia shook her head. "What does any of this have to do with your family?"

"Here… ' _It is believed that La Bête was finally trapped and killed by a renowned hunter who claimed his wife and four children were the first to fall prey to the creature_.'" She grinned then. "His name was Argent."

"Your ancestors killed a big wolf." Lydia's eyes widened. "So what?"

"Not just a big wolf. Take a look at this picture." She turned the book around to show them. "Now, I don't know about you, but that does _not_ scream bear to me."

Lydia's face fell and she leaned forward, staring at the book with complete focus, her eyes growing wide.

"Lydia?"

Malia looked from the book to Lydia. She could see the resemblance to the alpha; a dark, hulking figure with red, rage-filled eyes.

"Lydia," Allison said again, her chin perched atop the book.

Startled, Lydia looked up, and quickly pasted a dismissive look on her face. "It looks… like a big… _wolf_." She shoved her tray away then and smiled sharply. "See you in history." With that, she was gone, her hair bouncing at her shoulders.

Allison watched her go, frowning. "That was weird, right?"

"I think she's still recovering from Saturday." Malia focused on Allison. "What do you think about it? The whole shape-shifting cannibal thing."

"I mean, it's crazy, right? Just people making up stories to explain things they didn't understand… That or maybe there was something in the water, I don't know." She laughed. "Whatever it is, it'll make for a good history essay."

"Yeah." Malia nodded, her gaze turned away thoughtfully. She spotted Stiles then, standing in the doorway to the cafeteria, waving at her to follow. "Uh, I have to go."

"What, too much time inside?" Allison teased.

Malia snorted as she stood. "Something like that." Hooking her bag over her arm, she said, "Text me later. I'm gonna be busy tonight with Danny."

"Studying for the math test?"

"Yup." She pulled a face. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck."

Malia made her way across the cafeteria then, pushing through the doors to find only Scott waiting in the hall. "Hey, what's up?"

"Stiles wants us to meet him on the lacrosse field. He's grabbing a few things that he said will help."

"We're testing your control out here? _Now?_ "

Scott shrugged. "I guess. I have to be at the clinic after school, so this is the only time that really works."

Malia checked the clock on the wall and nodded. "Okay. We've got some time. But I need to be by study block. I can't exactly expect Danny to help me out tonight if I won't even show up for regular study sessions."

"Sure. No problem."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

When Stiles arrived on the field, he was carrying his lacrosse bag and his stick. He plopped it down on a bench and started digging around in it. He held a long band out to Scott. "Here. Put that on."

Malia snatched it. "This is the lacrosse team's. It's a heart monitor."

"Yeah," Stiles said. "I borrowed it."

Scott's brows hiked. "Stole it."

"Temporarily misappropriated. Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs." Stiles dug around in the bag and came out with a phone. "And you're gonna wear it for the rest of the day."

Scott pulled a face. "Isn't that Coach's phone?"

" _That_ I stole."

Malia rolled her eyes. "When'd you get sticky fingers?"

"When Scott's crap started infiltrating my life." He waved a hand around. "Also, because the monitor's already linked to his phone. It's just easier."

They stared at him.

Stiles sighed. "Look, when your heart rate goes up, that's when you go wolf, right? When you're playing lacrosse, when you get angry, when you were getting all hot and bothered at the party with Allison—"

"I vote we never use the words 'hot and bothered' again," Malia interrupted.

Scott pointed at her. "Agreed."

"The point is—" Stiles ignored them. "—maybe learning to control it is tied to your heart rate."

Scott's eyes widened. "Like the Incredible Hulk."

Stiles shrugged. "Kind of like the Incredible Hulk, yeah."

Scott grinned goofily. "Yeah, I'm like the Incredible Hulk."

"Would you shut up and put the strap on?"

Chuckling to himself, Scott held his hand out for the strap. Malia dropped it in his hand watched as he wound it around his waist and under his shirt. When it wouldn't stay in place, however, he shrugged his zip-up hoodie off and reached under his shirt, trying to readjust it.

"Here." Malia moved behind him and hiked his shirt up. She reached around him to make sure the monitor was centered, resting just under his pectoral muscles, and then slid a second strip over his shoulder and hooked it around the back of the band to keep it in place.

"Uhh…" Stiles held the phone up then as it started beeping loudly. "You all right, buddy?"

"Huh?"

Malia glanced at him from over Scott's shoulder. "That can't be right. It needs to get a general base line to work off of. There's no way your resting heart beat is at 120." Malia tucked her fingers under the band from behind and followed it around to the front, meeting in the middle. She checked that it was pressed against him properly, her nails scraping against his skin as she tugged on the monitor.

The beeping increased.

"What's he at now?"

Stiles looked from the phone to Scott and then back, squinting. "You know what, I think it's a glitch. I'm just gonna reboot the phone and start over." His brow furrowed as he looked up at them.

Malia shrugged and then looked at Scott. "Is that comfortable? It's not too tight."

"Yeah, mm-hmm, it's fine."

Malia patted his back and then leaned down, grabbing up his hoodie while he dropped his shirt back into place. "Here."

"Thanks." He stuck his arms through the sleeves and shrugged it on before running a hand through his hair. "Um, anything else?"

"Yeah." Stiles tossed Malia a roll of tape. "Bind his wrists. That way he can't defend himself."

Malia raised an eyebrow. "If he wolfs out, this isn't going to stop him."

"No, but it might give us a few extra seconds to run." He shrugged. "Plus, when I'm throwing balls at him, he can't just knock them away."

Malia rolled her eyes but turned to Scott and ripped up the end of the tape. "Ready?"

He turned around and held his arms behind him, his wrists pressed together. "Ready."

After he was officially bound in duct tape, they moved out to the center of the field. Stiles dropped his bag on the ground, filled with lacrosse balls, and put the phone on top of it so he could keep an eye on Scott's heart rate.

Scott faced them, kicking at the grass awkwardly. "This isn't exactly how I wanted to spend the rest of lunch… or my free period."

"All right." Stiles scooped up a ball. "You ready?"

"No."

"Remember, don't get angry."

"Starting to think this is a really bad idea," Scott muttered.

Stiles stepped back and then swung his stick, letting the ball soar forward. It knocked Scott center in the gut, pitching him forward as he grunted in pain.

Malia winced. She wrapped an arm around her waist while her other hand lingered at her chin, plucking at her lower lip worriedly. "90," she announced.

"Higher, but not high enough." Stiles threw another ball, and another and another.

Scott hunched sideways. "That kinda hurt."

"Stiles…" Malia stared at him. "Make sure you're doing this for the right reason."

He rolled the stick in his hands. "What reason is that?"

"To _help_."

His cheek ticked. "I'll admit, I was mad. I still kind of am. But that's not what this is about…" He scooped up another ball. "I was wrong. Scott couldn't prevent what happened in the parking lot. But only because he doesn't know what he's doing… We teach him that and the next time something like this happens, he'll be prepared."

She frowned. "Doesn't matter how much he prepares, things can still go wrong."

Stiles took another shot. It missed, but Scott still flinched.

"Remember," Stiles told him. "You're supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, all right? About staying calm."

"Stay calm." Scott started hopping in place. "Staying calm. Staying totally calm. There's no balls flying at my face—" A ball caught him hard in the chest and he grunted.

Malia sighed. "What about what we did last time? Less balls and more psychological junk."

"I thought you didn't like that approach." Stiles took another swing. "You said it hurt his feelings."

"Aah!" Scott cried. "Son of a bitch!"

"Yeah, well, better his feelings than his junk." Malia winced. "Are you aiming at all?"

Stiles shrugged. "I actually think my aim is improving."

"Wonder why," Scott snarked.

Malia checked the phone. "We're at 130."

Stiles tutted. "Don't get angry."

Scott glared. "I'm not getting angry."

Stiles threw again. And again. And again. Every hit landed— Scott's stomach, his shoulder, his leg.

Malia flinched with each one.

"Stop." Scott leaned forward, panting. He shook his head. "Just— Can we just hold—"

A ball hit him square in the stomach and he collapsed to the field. He hunched over, groaning, and Malia looked down as the numbers climbed on the phone. It jumped up to 140, 150, 160…

"Scott…" She walked toward him.

"Hey, hey, hey…" Stiles grabbed at her hand, pulling her back. "Scott, think of your anchor, all right? We have to test it, okay?"

Scott's forehead met the field. Malia could hear the choked noises he was making. She shook Stiles' hand off and crossed the space between her and Scott. "Think of your mom. Of what makes you safe." The beeping increased behind her and Malia felt her stomach twist and turn. Just short of him now, she knelt down and reached for him, her hand finding his shoulder. "Just breathe."

Suddenly, the tape around his wrists gave, and Scott pulled his hands forward, planting them flat on the ground. She could see his nails change; claws digging into the earth.

Malia felt her heart climb up her throat, but she didn't pull away. "You can do this. I know you can."

And then, the beeping slowed. Scott's body loosened up and his breathing evened out. He fell sideways to lay against the grass.

Malia sighed with relief. She ran her fingers through his hair gently, brushing it away from his eyes. "Hey, are you okay?"

He nodded and dropped his head down, letting it rest against her knee. "'m okay."

"So, it worked?" Stiles joined them, reaching out to pat Scott's shoulder. "You've got an anchor."

Scott shook his head. "I don't know. It was weird. It was like… the angrier I got, the stronger I felt. But when I thought of… When I focused on my anchor, it was different."

"Different how?"

"Derek said that an anchor can do both, right? It can stop me from shifting, but it could also help me shift at will, too." He turned over onto his back and stared up at them. "What if my anchor only helps me turn back?"

Stiles shrugged and looked at each of them. "Is that a bad thing?"

"It is if I'm fighting the alpha. If I can't shift, I can't do anything. I'm useless."

Malia frowned. "You're not useless. And you're just figuring this anchor stuff out. You've still got time." A bell rang in the distance then and she sighed. "But, I don't. I need to meet up with Danny. Look, this is just like anything else. You're learning it all from scratch. Now we know you can stop shifting when you need to. Next step is learning how _to_ shift."

"Yeah." Scott nodded and pushed himself up to sit next to her. "I guess this helps for the full moon, at least."

"See. An upside." Malia stood and dusted the grass off her knees. "I'd say text me later, but you're still out a phone." She looked between them. "Skype later?"

They nodded.

With a wave, Malia turned on her heel and started back to the school. As much as Scott was seeing a downside, Malia was just relieved that they were making progress. Every little bit helped.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia was waiting outside the library for Danny to show. He was usually there before her and, since the librarians liked him better, was able to get one of the better tables. Resting her back against the wall, she scrolled through her phone and searched out Allison's name in her messages. Just as she opened their conversation, a shadow fell across her. She looked up to see Jackson standing next to her.

Malia's brow furrowed. "Are you lost?"

"Not exactly." He licked his lips. "Look, uh, I should've talked to you earlier, about Saturday…"

She stared at him a beat. His skin looked even pastier than it had that morning and his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. "Saturday?"

"Yeah. You know, when we were chased out of a video store by a blood-thirsty mountain lion?" He grinned, but it was all teeth. "Danny keeps telling me I should thank you."

"I didn't do anything." She shrugged. "Anyway, it's dead now, right?"

"Yeah." He nodded, his gaze skittering away. "Do you… I mean, the mountain lion on Monday… Are they sure it's the same one?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Right, yeah." He laughed, but it was stilted. "Hey, about earlier, I, uh, I'm sorry for being a dick. I feel like I do that a lot around you."

"And just about everyone I know." She raised an eyebrow. "Are you feeling okay? This genuine Jackson shtick is weirding me out."

"I'm fine. Just… I don't know. I guess I feel like I owe you an apology. You and Scott."

"Scott, too?" She snorted. "All right, either you have a fever or this is a body snatchers moment I did _not_ sign up for…"

His gaze flattened. "Do you know what it's like to be the best player on the team? Hm? To be the star?" He scoffed. "To have every single person at the game chanting your name….? And then, some kid— Some kid just comes along, and everyone starts looking at _him_ instead of you. Do you know what that feels like?"

Malia stared at him. "It's just a game, Jackson."

"It's _not_." His brows hiked. "Maybe for you or McCall or Stilinski it's just something you play. But for me… For me, it's everything. I wasn't handed my position. I _worked_ for it." He shook his head. "And when something that you love, something that's _yours_ , is gone, it feels like something's been stolen from you. And then you start to feel like you'd do _anything_ … Anything in the world to get it back."

The intensity of his voice made Malia's skin crawl. Her hands tensed around the books she was holding. "Those are pretty big words…"

"Yeah, well, I'm an athlete. Go big or go home, right?"

Malia raised an eyebrow. "Why are you here, Jackson? You've never gone out of your way to talk to me before."

"I've been doing some thinking and… Maybe I want to make amends. After all, you saved my life right? We should start things off on a better foot." He nodded. "Scott's a part of the team now and… I should've been more welcoming."

"Shouldn't you be saying this to him then?"

He grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. "The way I see it, the quickest way to Scott is through you."

If he thought those words were supposed to be flattering, he was wrong. If anything, they sounded really damn threatening.

"I'm not so easy to go through." She pushed off the wall and tilted her chin. "And I tend to hold grudges."

Before Jackson could anything more, Danny appeared from around the corner. "Hey, sorry I'm late. I had to talk to one of my teachers…" His gaze darted between her and Jackson. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Totally fine." Jackson grinned, his gaze never leaving Malia. "I was just trying to get to know your new _bestie_."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Ignore him. He gets jealous easily."

Malia snorted. "I noticed."

"Anyway…" Danny reached for the door to the library. "We've got a study block. I'll see you later?"

Jackson nodded. "Yeah. Later."

As Danny made his way through the door, Malia stepped back, ready to follow. Jackson's eerie gaze followed her the whole way and, even as the door closed behind her, the weight of it hung heavy on her shoulders. She couldn't help feeling like there was something seriously wrong with him, even more than usual.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Are we gonna talk about it?" Stiles looked over at Scott as they crossed the lacrosse field for the school. They had an Econ class starting in twenty minutes and Coach was not going to be happy if they were late.

"Talk about what?"

"Dude…" Stiles' brows hiked. "Your heart rate skyrocketed when Malia was helping you put the strap on."

Scott glanced at him, his eyes wide. "I thought you said it was a glitch."

"I _lied_. I only said that so she wouldn't realize it was her…" He stared at him searchingly. "What happened to Allison?"

"What? _Nothing_. What do you mean?"

"I mean, I thought you had a thing for Allison. You know, the girl you've been kind of, sort of dating for the last month…" He waved his hands around animatedly. "The same girl I keep telling you and Malia is a giant threat just waiting to blow up in our faces. _That_ girl."

Scott sighed. "I do like Allison."

Stiles nodded. "Why am I sensing a 'but' here…"

" _But_ … I think I like her more as a friend. I mean, I'm _attracted_ to her, but it's just not…" He shook his head. "It's different."

"To what?"

He shrugged, his shoulders hunched up near his ears. "I just feel differently about her."

"Than who?"

Groaning, Scott tipped his head back. "Are you really gonna make me spell it out?"

Stiles stared at him.

Scott looked around quickly, feeling panicky. "You can't tell her."

"And by her, you're referring to…"

" _Malia_."

"So, you admit it then."

"Admit what?"

"You have feelings for Malia." Stiles squinted at him. "For how long? When did that happen?"

"I don't know… A few years ago."

"A few _years?"_ Stiles' eyes widened. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want it to be weird."

Stiles knocked a hand against Scott's chest. "What's weird is that you _didn't_ tell me!"

"I didn't want her to know. She doesn't think of me like that. I didn't want to make her uncomfortable." Scott's face fell. "And I thought if you knew then maybe she'd find out somehow."

"What, like I'd tell her? You think I'd do that?"

"No… Not on purpose. It's just…" He groaned. "I don't know. Maybe I thought you'd make fun of me for it."

"Did you make fun of me when I thought I had a crush on her?"

"Yeah, a little. But mostly 'cause you kept telling me about that dream you had."

Stiles shuddered. "Don't remind me."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Look, it doesn't matter. Me and Allison aren't together, not really. We're kind of just people with benefits… Or friends with benefits. I think we're trying to be friends, but there are still benefits… Whatever that's called."

Stiles dragged a hand down his face and muttered under his breath. "What did I ever do to deserve this?"

Scott frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means…" He took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "Okay. Let's just curb the whole 'you should've told me' part of this, all right? Your anchor is Malia. I can't believe I didn't figure this out before… The night of the full moon, she was with you, she almost kept you from shifting. And then on the field, when I was saying all those things to trigger you, Malia talked you down. It wasn't just what she said, it was that _she_ was talking to you. Her voice calmed you down. And then in the woods, when you caught up to her. Same thing. Instead of almost killing her like you almost killed _me_ after practice, you listened to her. You let her calm you down. And later that night, at the game, when you shifted while you were playing, you heard her, didn't you?"

Scott nodded.

"Every time you've almost shifted, even when you actually have, Malia's been there. She does something to you. She— She connects with you in a way nobody else does… She anchors you."

Scott hesitated, but eventually let out a long breath. "I told her it was my mom. I panicked. Derek said to pick someone that made me feel safe and… Malia does that. She always has."

"Okay. All right." Stiles nodded. "So, you have feelings for Malia. She's your anchor. And you… are hooking up with one of her closest friends. The daughter of a werewolf hunter. Uh-huh. Yeah." He shook his head. "This is definitely going to blow up in everyone's face."

"What?"

"Does Allison know?"

"Know what?"

Stiles stared at him like he was an idiot. "That you had a stamp collection when you were six, what do you think? That you have feelings for Malia!"

Scott's shoulders slumped. "She figured it out on Monday. That's part of why we broke up."

"Oh my God…" He dragged his hands back over his hair. "Was she mad? Did she cry? If she finds out you're a werewolf, is she going to funnel that rage into killing you?"

"Huh? _No_. She was actually pretty good about it. I think she kind of felt the same way. That we just didn't click like we were supposed to." He shrugged. "She's fine with it."

Stiles blinked at him. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." Scott nodded. "She's the one that suggested we just do the casual benefits thing."

Stiles shook his head. "I can't tell if you're insanely lucky or destined for doom…"

Scott's brow furrowed.

"What are you going to do about Malia?"

Scott blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ , you can't keep this secret forever." Stiles waved his hands around. "You have to tell her."

"What? _No!_ Why does everybody keep saying that?"

"Uh, because it's true. And also, who else is saying that?"

"Derek for one."

Stiles frowned. "Look, Scott, she's your best friend, okay? Trust me. You need to talk to her."

"Not now. Not like this."

"Then when, huh? You already spent what, _three_ _years_ hiding it. Where's that got you?"

"Three extra years of friendship that wasn't awkward. What if she rejects me? Or worse, she feels like she has to date me because we're friends and she doesn't want to hurt my feelings!"

Groaning, Stiles reached out and caught Scott by the shoulders. "First of all, Malia is the _last_ person who would date anyone she didn't want to date. And second of all…" He couldn't tell him. That was up to Malia. Stiles couldn't break her confidence by sharing what he knew about the situation. "Second of all, you can't spend your whole life hiding from this. If you're not over her yet, you're not getting over her any time soon. So, just deal with it. Tell her the truth." With that, he released Scott and continued the last little bit to the school.

Sighing, Scott followed after him. "Can't I wait until the alpha stuff is out of the way?"

Stiles turned his eyes toward the ceiling. These two idiots were gonna be the death of him, he just knew it.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _just a heads up, the jackson scene was meant to be weird and intense. in the show, jackson has visions of a monster crawling out of his mouth. it's implied that he hasn't been sleeping and he's freaked out by the attack on saturday and from derek piercing his neck with his claws. while not mentioned in chapter, jackson also sees scott, stiles, and malia on the field, testing his control, and gets even more suspicious. so one of the reasons that jackson approaches malia is because he wants to know what's going on and he knows that she probably knows, being one of the people derek mentioned, or at the very least she can tell him what's going on with scott. in the show, he approaches allison and plays friendly, but jackson's already mentioned in a previous chapter that he knows how close malia and scott are, so it makes more sense for him to focus on malia. she's not interested in his faux friendliness and can see something's up, but she's also a little bit worried, because he really doesn't look good. :/_

 _i was really hoping to get this posted on saturday or sunday, but at least it's not wednesday, lol. i'm slowly making my way back to the regular posting schedule. i thought we'd get to the end of episode 6 in this chapter, but then i ended up fleshing out a few different scenes and adding even more, so the next chapter will pick up the rest of episode 6 and then we move into episode 7. i have to admit, the next chapter is gonna be one of my favorites and i think you guys'll like it too because it has something a looot of you have been asking about... :)_

 _also, by next chapter i see the rating jumping up to Mature, if only for violence, so just a head's up. eventually, it will become explicit, though i think that might end up happening in the season 2 story rather than this one. we'll see where the characters go. i don't know how you guys feel about smut though, so let me know!_

 **things to look forward to next chapter** : _deaton gets a visit from derek; malia and danny friendship; scott tests out his roar; and the school suffers an alpha attack. ;)_

 _thanks for reading, please leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	18. heart monitor 2 night school 1

**word count** : 10,711  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : 1x06 - heart monitor / 1x07 - night school

* * *

 **XIII**

"We still need to find a way to test your shifting ability. Now that we know you can stop the shift, there has to be a way for to activate it..." Stiles nodded thoughtfully. "What do we know sets you off?"

"Anger, fear, uh, _stimulation_..."

Stiles blinked at him. "Dude."

"You know what I mean..." Scott shrugged. "We agreed not to say 'hot and heavy' anymore."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Fine. ' _Stimulation_.' What else?"

"I don't know." He frowned. "I started shifting when I thought Malia was in danger. Does that count?"

"Maybe. Fear for her, but also a little bit of protectiveness. Like, maybe you shift in order to _help_ someone..."

"Okay… But, how do we test that?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. At least not without putting someone else in danger..."

"Not that." Scott raised his hands. "I don't want anyone to get hurt. I'm still figuring this stuff out. We can't be sure I'll be able to control any of it. It needs to stay between us."

"And Malia."

Scott grimaced. "She can't get hurt because of me."

Stiles pulled a face. "Oh, but I can?"

"You know what I mean..." Scott sighed.

"Uh, I think I don't. Just how expendable am I?"

"You're not." Scott pulled at his arm to stop him. "What you said earlier, about how I let Malia calm me down, but I almost killed you... I'm not okay with that. I'm not okay with the idea that I could hurt you, even _kill_ you. I'm scared, all the time, that I'm going to do something to you or my mom or Allison... With Malia, it— it's stronger. It's different. But that doesn't mean I'd be okay if I did something that hurt _you_... Or your dad."

Drawing a deep breath, Stiles swiped at his chin and let out a sigh. "Listen, Scott, I know that, okay? I get that what happened on Monday wasn't on purpose. Don't get me wrong, I still think that having Allison around, getting so close to her, is a mistake. There's too much at risk here to ignore that. But... I know you'd never let my dad get hurt, not on purpose. Which is why I want to help you with this. I don't know what Derek's big plan is for teaching you how to control this, but he's been too secretive and too lurky not to raise a few red flags." He licked his lips and looked away. "I know how much Malia means to you. I don't want her getting hurt either. But, we both know that she would kick both our asses if we left her out of the loop on this stuff. And I'd kind of want to kick our asses too, considering we both know having her around is only going to help."

Nodding, Scott stepped back. "Okay, you're right."

"Yeah, well, usually am." Stiles grinned. "Kind of my shtick."

An overhead speaker crackled to life then— " _Scott McCall, to the office. Scott McCall, please come to the office_."

Stiles winced. "What do you think that's about?"

He shook his head, his shoulders hiked up to his ears. "I don't know. I didn't do anything. At least, I don't think I did..."

"Well, let's go find out." He hooked a hand around Scott's shoulder and redirected him down the hallway. "What's the worst that could happen, right? They find out you're a werewolf and you were there when the bus driver was maimed and blame you for it..." He paused. "Actually, that'd be pretty bad."

Scott stared at him with eyes wide. "Do you think they did? What if your dad's here to arrest me?"

"What, _no_. He wouldn't do that. Anyway, he'd tell me... _probably_."

Groaning, Scott tipped his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't get arrested... My mom will kill me."

"Let's not jump to conclusions, all right? It could be anything... Everything that comes to mind is _terrible_ , but I have an overactive imagination."

By the time they reached the office, Scott was just waiting for the whole police force to appear, guns at the ready. Maybe they would bring animal control too, just to rub it in. But, in the end, the office was clear of any and all police officers. There was only Doris at the front desk, the Vice Principal eyeing a box of donuts in the corner, and a freshman slunk low in a chair, fiddling on his phone as he waited to be called back.

Scott approached the desk nervously. "Uh... Hi?"

"Hi." Doris looked up, smiled that not-particularly-happy smile that people who've worked front desk tend to. "McCall?"

"Yeah."

"You have a message. Your mother called. She said 'her usual ride cancelled, she's working a double, and she'll need you to drop the car off at the hospital.' Got all that?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah. That's it?"

"That's it."

"Okay, thanks." Knocking his hand against the desk, he turned to face Stiles, looking relieved.

"Don't you have work?" Stiles wondered.

Scott's shoulders slumped. "Crap. I need to drop by my house, get my bike, bring the car to the hospital, and then get back to the clinic... I'm gonna be late."

"I'll follow you. I can drive you over to the clinic. You'll probably still be late, but not as much."

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks. Hey, can I borrow your phone? I just wanna call Deaton, let him know what's happening. I've been late a few times this month already."

"Yeah. Sure." Stiles dug his phone out and handed it over. "What're you gonna do about getting a new phone?"

"I have some money saved up, I guess I'll use that or, I don't know." He sighed. "I've had it for a while, maybe they'll just give me a new one."

"With your luck?" Stiles snorted. "I doubt it."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Standing in the hallway of Beacons Crossing Home, Derek second-guessed his decision to visit Peter. His uncle was little more than a vacant body and had been for six long years. Coming to him felt like one last-ditch effort at trying to understand how things could've gone so wrong. Laura shouldn't be dead. She only came back to Beacon Hills to _help_. Not for the first time, he felt like his hometown was little more than a black hole, sucking up every bit of happiness and joy and spitting out the bones of its victims.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside Peter's room; it was just as empty and sterile as it was every visit before.

Peter sat in his wheelchair, staring out into space, his gaze distant and dead.

Taking a seat on the crisply made bed, Derek tugged on the arm of the wheelchair, turning it so it was facing him. Some days, he wished the gruesome sight of Peter's severely damaged face would bother him more, but in the short time he'd been back in Beacon Hills, he'd grown accustomed to the scarring. There were days he stared at it so hard, he thought he might imprint the memory of every hill and groove that made up the reminder of what was lost right onto his retinas.

While Peter was there, physically, his mind had been buried along with his family. That didn't stop Derek from hoping that somehow, deep down, Peter was in there, and he could hear him.

"I need your help… If you can hear me, I need you to give me a sign. _Blink_. Raise a finger. Anything." Derek shook his head. "Just— Just something to point me in the right direction, okay?" He paused, dropped his gaze to his lap, and swallowed tightly. "Someone killed Laura. Your niece. Laura?"

Peter remained the same. Not a muscle in his face or frame moving. His heartbeat was steady, showing no sign that he heard or reacted to Derek.

"Whoever he is, he's an Alpha now. But he's one without a pack. Which means he's not as strong."

While the Alpha had turned Scott, he wasn't going along with it. He refused to join the Alpha in whatever he was doing. Derek could use that. He might be a beta, but he was strong. He'd trained under Talia and Laura. _Laura_. His big sister… The only one he had left. Who didn't deserve what happened to her.

"I can take him," he decided. Even as his stomach tied itself in uncertain knots. An Alpha, even without a pack, was still stronger than the average beta. And if he didn't have Scott on his side, then Derek had to admit, even just to himself, that it was going to be an uphill battle… One he might not walk away from.

"But I have to find him first. Look, if you know something, just give me a sign. Is it one of us?" He could feel his heart pounding against his chest. Hope? Fear? _Both?_ "Someone else make it out of the fire?"

How many times had he thought about what it would be like if one of them made it? Ben, who had vowed to do no harm. Adrienne or Gabriela, who he couldn't imagine without the other. Lucas, the gentlest of them all. Vale, who could never say the words 'I love you' but showed them in everything she did. And Cora, the baby of the family, but so strong and spirited. Or maybe his father had dragged himself from that fire and stoked his rage, hidden in the woods as he healed, feeding the flames of a vendetta he would one day vow to fulfill.

Derek wasn't sure if he wanted it to be them. To see how time had twisted them up into something, _someone_ , that would cause this kind of violence. This kind of _death_. Would he stop them? Or join them? The quickening of his heart was just as unsure as he was.

"Just give me anything," he begged, searching Peter for some kind of reply. "Blink. Raise a finger. _Anything_." Fear and desperation had him reaching out, gripping the arms of Peter's wheelchair, and shaking it. "Say something!"

"Let him go!" a shrill voice demanded. A red-headed nurse came barrelling into the room and scowled at him. "You think after six years of this, _yelling_ at him is going to get a response?"

Standing, Derek frowned at her. "Got a better method?"

"Patience. He'll respond if you give him the time."

He folded his mouth and looked back to Peter. Just as empty as he had been when Derek arrived. "I don't have any more time." With that, he marched out of the room.

Left behind, Peter Hale uncurled a single, shaking finger.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

"You can't hang out at all?" Allison's brow wrinkled and she pulled a sad face, sticking her lower lip out.

"Nope. I'm studying with Danny, remember?"

She sighed and fell back against the lockers, hugging her books to her stomach. "Yeah, I know. I was gonna hang out with Lydia, but she invited Jackson along..."

Remembering her earlier conversation with Jackson, Malia frowned. "Keep an eye on him. He's being weird and... creepy."

"Creepy or just a creep in general?"

"Both." Malia closed her locker. "Is it just me or does he look like a walking plague?"

Allison snorted. "He doesn't look great. Maybe he has the flu or something."

"Or something..." She pursed her lips. "I don't know. He just said something weird to me earlier, I guess it got under my skin."

"You two don't exactly like each other and he's pretty antagonistic."

"Yeah, that's a nice way of saying he's a dick." Malia shook her head. "Anyway, just be careful."

"I don't even think we're doing anything. We'll probably get dinner, hang out. And Lydia will be there, so it should be fine."

"Yeah." Catching frizzy blonde hair out of the corner of her eye, Malia said, "I gotta go. But text me later?"

"Yeah, definitely. You're sure you don't need a ride home?"

"Nope. Danny and are I hanging out and getting dinner before we head back here to study."

"Okay." Allison waved as she turned on her heel to leave.

Making her way down the hall, Malia broke out into a jog when she spotted Erica up ahead. "Erica! Hey!"

Stopping, she looked back over her shoulder and nodded. Waiting for Malia to catch up, she said, "Hey."

"What's up? I feel like I haven't seen you all week."

"Oh. Yeah, uh... I haven't been coming to school so much. My sleep schedule is kind of all over the place and... Yeah. I don't know. I guess I'm not dealing with Saturday so great." She crossed her arms and hugged them close to her chest. "When I get stressed, I have seizures, and when I have seizures, I stress..." She half-smiled, but it was far from happy. "Endless circle, you know?"

"That sucks." Malia's brow wrinkled. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's not your fault, and I really hate pity. But, yeah, last night was the first time I've slept okay, so... Here I am. I've got a ton of homework to get caught up on and I'm _really_ not looking forward to it."

"Oh. Well, hey, if you want someone to hang out with while you're doing it, me and Danny are gonna be here tonight, studying. So, you could drop in, we'll take over a desk in the library. Better than sitting alone at home, right?"

Erica hesitated, but eventually nodded. "Yeah, that could be cool. Are you sure Danny's okay with it?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "He'll be fine. But if you're worried, I'm going to see him now. I'll text you, let you know what he says. It shouldn't be a big deal. You'll be doing homework while I'm being quizzed to death."

A slow smile pulled up one side of Erica's mouth. "All right. Cool. Thanks."

"Sure." Malia nodded her head to a nearby hallway. "I should go find him. But, see you later?"

"Yeah. Later."

Splitting off in different directions, Malia made her way toward Danny's locker. She passed by Boyd, just closing his locker and hooking his bag over his shoulder. "Hey, Boyd."

He looked over. "Tate."

She smothered a smile. "You can call me Malia."

He followed her with his eyes. "Maybe next time."

Snorting, she rolled her eyes, and kept going, only to find Danny was walking toward her.

"Hey," he said, his brow furrowed as he looked past her to the retreating form of Boyd. "Who's that?"

"Uh, Boyd. He works at the ice rink. Nice guy."

"Yeah?" He shook his head. "I've never seen him before."

"I'll introduce you sometime. That reminds me, though. You know Erica? You met her Saturday, at the video store."

"You mean the night you were nearly mauled to death?" He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I remember."

"Okay, well, she hasn't been coming to school the last few days, I guess she hasn't been dealing with it well. And she has a bunch of homework to catch up on so I kind of invited her to the school tonight and said she could share our table. She'll be busy with her own work, but I thought it'd be nice to get out and just be around people. Is that okay or...?"

"Yeah. Sure." He shrugged. "I don't know how much fun she'll have. I've got a bunch of cue cards to test you with. I plan on making sure you ace this quiz."

"I know." Malia sighed. "And I appreciate it. Even if I _hate_ it."

Laughing under his breath, Danny threw an arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side. "Let's get out of here. We'll get something to eat. That'll cheer you up."

"You know me too well."

* * *

…

* * *

In the time it took to get from the school to his house, then to the hospital, and back to the clinic, Scott was twenty minutes late for work. Tapping his fingers against his knee, he sighed. "Deaton's gonna fire me if I keep doing this."

"I doubt it." Stiles shrugged. "I mean, yeah, if you _never_ show up, but you're only a little late…"

"I'm always late." He dropped his head back and slumped down in his seat. "All the stress, with the hunters and the full moon and Derek and the Alpha… I feel like I'm constantly running out of time. I don't know what to focus on or- or what to do when I _do_ focus on something."

"Well, that's why you ask for help, right? Malia's pretty on top of the werewolf stuff. As much as I hate to say it, her connection with Derek helps a lot."

Scott pulled a face.

"What? Not like _that_." Stiles' mouth twisted up. "Gross. She's not into him."

Scott's brow furrowed. "Has she said that?"

"Does she need to?" Stiles glanced at him quickly. "Dude, Derek's like… _old_. For her, at least. He's like, what, 22? 23? No way she's into him."

"But you were right, they _do_ have a connection." It was something that had been bothering Scott for a while. Something he noticed when she defended or agreed with Derek. She might insist that she wasn't on Derek's side, but there were times when Scott couldn't help but pick up on how much they agreed or how quick she was to offer her place as somewhere for him to hide. That had to be mean something, right?

"Not that kind of connection." Stiles shook his head. "Trust me. She would've mentioned something." Frowning, he waved a hand around. "Honestly, I think he reminds her of herself."

"A twenty-two-year-old, angry werewolf reminds her of herself?"

"No… An angry person that lost his family. Malia's not the same pissed off girl I met when I was ten, but that pain's still there. She doesn't talk about it much, but it slips out, you know? And I think lately, it's less about anger and more about missing them. So, even if I think Derek is a sketchy weirdo that's definitely hiding something from us… I can also see why she might relate to him."

"Yeah… That makes sense," Scott admitted.

"See?" He reached out and patted a hand against Scott's chest encouragingly. Just as he was pulling into the parking lot of the clinic, however, he frowned. "Uh… Isn't that Derek's car?"

Scott looked ahead and found a black Camaro parked out front. "Looks like it…"

Once Stiles parked, Scott hopped out and circled around to the front of the Camaro, checking to see if Derek was sitting inside. Finding the car empty, he shrugged in Stiles' direction.

Pushing his door open, Stiles leaned out. "You think he's inside?"

"Maybe."

"You think it's good?"

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Is it ever good with Derek?"

"Good point." Climbing out, Stiles shoved the jeep door closed and walked over, waving toward the clinic. "Well, let's go see."

The front end of the clinic was empty, but it was clear that something wasn't right as soon as they stepped inside.

" _What're you doing to me? What do you want?_ " Scott heard Deaton ask, his voice quavering.

" _I want to know who you are or who you're protecting?"_ Derek snarled back.

Scott picked up his pace, shoving open the door to one of the surgical rooms. It was dim, only a single hanging bulb lighting the whole room. But there was Deaton, his arms bound at the wrist, sitting on a chair that Derek was holding up off the ground, high enough that he and Deaton were face to face.

"What are you doing?" Scott shouted.

Stiles came hurrying in behind him, stumbling to a stop at his back. " _Holy_ …"

"Scott, get out of here!" Deaton warned.

Scott stepped deeper into the room while Stiles flipped the lights on.

Derek dropped the chair to the ground and took a swing at Deaton— his punch landed, knocking Deaton clear out.

"Stop! Stop!" Scott got between them and grabbed for Derek's shoulder, pushing him away.

"Look, when he's conscious, he can keep himself from healing," Derek insisted, "but _unconscious_ , he can't."

"A-Are you out of your mind? What are you talking about?"

"You want to know what the spiral means, Scott?" Derek's voice raised until he was nearly shouting in Scott's face. "It's our sign for a vendetta, for revenge. It means he won't stop killing until he's satisfied."

Scott's brow furrowed. "You think _he's_ the Alpha?"

"We're about to find out." Derek reared a hand back, ready to slash at Deaton, his claws out.

Scott caught his wrist, his own claws digging through the leather sleeve of Derek's jacket. He felt his teeth sharpen and elongate, the fur sprout from his brows and along his cheeks. He snarled at Derek, a low-pitched growl of a warning.

Derek's eyes widened, his face falling with surprise. He backed up, away from Scott.

Raising his hand, Scott stared at it, at the sign that he wasn't so human anymore. And instead of being scared, he felt angry, and in that, _powerful_. As his claws shortened back to his regular nails, he felt a focused calm come over him. His teeth shortened, his hair returned to normal, and the color of his eyes shifted from gold to brown. "Hit him again, and then you'll see me get angry."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"So, you wanna tell me what was going on with Jackson earlier?" Danny stabbed his fork into his salad and dipped it in a separate container of dressing. As someone that poured the whole thing on her salad and wasn't happy unless every piece of lettuce was drenched, watching Danny eat was a study in control for Malia.

"What do you mean?"

He raised a knowing eyebrow. "Jackson doesn't seek people out. When he does, it's usually to antagonize."

"Aren't you the one who told me he wasn't as bad as he seems?"

Danny shrugged. "It takes a while to get to that stage. As far as I can tell, he doesn't like you. I mostly think that's transference from Scott, but, still…"

"You mean because he has a raging inferiority complex and is pissed Scott's outshining him on the team."

"Scott's good. He's _really_ good," Danny admitted. "But he's also new to it. Jackson's been doing this for a while. Being captain, running things, that's what Jackson's used to. Seeing someone else try to do the same is putting him on edge. That doesn't mean Scott hasn't worked for it or that he doesn't deserve his position. Just that Jackson earned his, too."

Malia hummed and chewed on the end of her straw, a hand wrapped around her glass of Coke. "He was being weird. He said he wanted to apologize, get off on the right foot."

"That doesn't sound so bad…"

"No, but it was the _way_ he said it."

"And how was that?"

"Like a threat." Her brow wrinkled. "And no offense, but he doesn't look so good."

"Yeah. I've noticed." Danny shrugged. "I mentioned it to him, but he just said he hasn't been sleeping great. I think it's what happened Saturday. Jackson's not the type to talk feelings. It takes some work to get him to open up. But, I think the attack hit him harder than he wants to admit."

"Yeah. Probably." She frowned. "Anyway, that was basically all he said. And then you were there."

Nodding, Danny picked at his salad. "He's a dick when he wants to be. But that's not all he is."

"It's all I've seen. I get that it's different for you and, maybe Lydia, too. But until _I_ see that, I can only go with what I know. And so far, it's not great."

"I get that." Danny sat back in his seat. "Maybe it's a sign."

"That…?"

"That we should hang out more." A slow grin pulled up either side of his mouth. "All of us."

Malia's brows hiked. "Do you usually invite chaos into your life?"

"I invited you, didn't I?" He laughed as she rolled her eyes. "Look, Jackson is my best friend and you… I don't know, I think we're headed in that direction. So, I'm trying to save us some wasted time by having you two find common ground."

"And what's that?"

" _Me_."

Malia snorted. "Don't buy us best friend bracelets just yet, but… Sure. I'm not completely opposed to hanging out. He wasn't terrible when we were playing beer pong."

"So, keep it public, with lots of people and escape options."

Malia smirked. "Exactly."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Scott dabbed at the open cut across Deaton's cheek with sterilized gauze. He was still unconscious, his head hanging forward, limply.

Stiles was pacing and chewing on his fingernail. "This is crazy! You can't just go around knocking people out. What proof do you even have?"

Derek slid a piece of paper toward him.

Stiles picked it up, read it through, and then shook his head. "So, Deaton commented on a dead animal case, so what?"

"Not just any case. That deer had a spiral on its side. I came here to ask him about it, find out if he might have a lead I could follow. Apparently, the police asked him if he'd ever seen anything like it and _he_ said he hadn't."

" _So?_ "

"So, he was lying." Derek's gaze moved from Stiles to Scott. "He knows something."

Scott shook his head. "That doesn't mean he's the Alpha."

"Maybe he is or maybe he just knows who it is." Derek shrugged. "Either way, he has information."

"He's my boss. He- He wouldn't _do_ something like this."

"You _think_." Derek stared at him, his gaze flat. "People aren't always who you think they are, Scott. But your boss, he knows something. Which means we have to _do_ something. Because if he _is_ the Alpha—"

"I _know_ , okay?"

"Do you?" Letting out an exasperated sigh, he wondered, "Where's Malia?"

"I'm texting her, but she's not answering." Stiles shrugged. "She's got a thing with Danny."

"Call her."

Stiles scowled. "I don't take orders from you, okay?"

Derek stalked in his direction, causing Stiles to stumble backwards. Stopping, Derek ground his teeth. "She needs to be here."

"Why, so you'll have someone on your side?" Scott shook his head. "Malia knows Deaton. She _likes_ him. She wouldn't be okay with this."

"Even if he's the Alpha? If he's the one that killed the video clerk? That threw her into a wall?"

Scott's gaze darted around, his brow knotted. "If it is him, how do we know he even remembers doing it? What if it's like me? I didn't remember what happened on the bus. Maybe when he turns, he has no control—"

"No. He's too methodical. He knows what he's doing." Derek crossed his arms. "We need to do something. So either this goes my way or yours… Do you have a _plan?_ "

Scott ground his teeth. "I will. Just… give me an hour."

"Then what?"

He sighed. "Meet us at the school. In the parking lot."

"Fine." Derek stabbed a finger toward Deaton. "But, _he_ stays with me."

Scott frowned. "If you hurt him…"

"Scout's honor, he'll be just the way you left him."

Scott stared at him a long beat and then nodded. "Okay. One hour."

Derek's brow ticked up. "One hour."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

It was almost six by the time Malia and Danny headed for the school. Unlike the rest of the building, the library would be open until nine. Trisha, Danny's favorite librarian, had lobbied on behalf of the students to keep the library open twice a week, Wednesdays and Fridays. Well, she'd lobbied for more, but that was as much as they were willing to let her have. They kept a door just off the atrium open, but any connecting hallways surrounding the library were closed and locked to keep students from wandering the school.

Danny cleared her throat in the universal sign that he was about to talk about something uncomfortable and Malia considered fiddling with the radio just to head him off. Before she could, he launched ahead. "So, I know you mentioned Erica was having nightmares about Saturday, and I know Jackson's not dealing with it too well, but… what about you?"

"I'm not having nightmares." Malia shrugged. "I was pretty freaked out about it, especially the night it happened, but… I don't know. I've been okay."

He hummed, and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "You think the mountain lion from Monday was what attacked you?"

She frowned. "Yeah. Don't you?"

"I don't know. It would make sense."

"Yeah…?" She side-eyed him curiously. "Then why do you sound so skeptical?"

He shook his head. "It just seems too easy."

"Sometimes stuff works out like that."

"Sometimes." His brow furrowed. "It's just weird that the other two attacks were isolated."

"There were three people in the video store. Not that isolated."

"Compared to a whole parking lot of people it is… And how did it get into the video store in the first place? Was a door propped open?" He frowned. "The bus driver I kind of get. He was close to the woods. But the video store clerk… That was risky."

"Animals don't think like we do."

"No, but they're predators. They'd weigh the risk against the reward. Wouldn't it be easier to go for someone closer to the trees?"

"It got a taste for people." She shrugged. "Who knows?"

"Yeah." Danny sighed. "I don't know. I _hope_ it was the same mountain lion."

Malia turned her gaze out the window. "Me, too."

* * *

…

* * *

After Stiles broke the chain off the front door of the school, they snuck inside and made their way to the office. Walking down the hallway just outside of it, Scott waved a flashlight through the windows, searching the desks for where the PA system was set up. His free hand bounced against his leg restlessly, fingers jittering. He couldn't stop thinking about Deaton, still knocked out cold, tied up in the back seat of Derek's car. He had to do this. He had to prove that Deaton was _not_ the Alpha… He couldn't be.

"Okay, one question…" Stiles pushed the door to the office open and walked ahead. "What are you gonna do if the Alpha doesn't show up?"

"I don't know."

"And what are you gonna do if he _does_ show up?" Stiles fiddled with the PA's switch board.

Scott shook his head. "I don't know."

Stiles' brows hiked. "Good plan."

"All right. You said that a wolf howls to signal his position to the rest of the pack, right?"

"Right." Stiles looked away, eyes narrowed. "But, if you bring him here, does that make you part of his pack?"

Nervously, Scott muttered, "I hope not."

"Yeah, me too." Stiles plucked up the microphone and placed it in front of Scott. "All right. All you."

Scott cleared his throat and then leaned forward.

The sound that left him was… more than little lackluster. It was loud, but not in an intimidating way. All things considered though, Scott was pretty sure it still counted.

Stiles' head fell and he scrubbed a hand over his hair, scratching at the top.

"Was that okay? I mean, that was a howl, right?"

Stiles pulled a face. "I— Yeah, technically."

"Well, what did it sound like to you?"

Not bothering to sugar-coat it, Stiles said, "Like a cat being choked to death, Scott."

Scott groaned. "What do I do? How am I supposed to do this!?"

"Hey, hey. Listen to me…" Stiles circled the desk and came out behind Scott. He clamped his hands down on Scott's shoulders and squeezed encouragingly, like a coach gearing up a boxer. "You're calling the Alpha. All right? Be a man. Be a werewolf, not a _teen_ wolf. Be a werewolf." He nodded and clapped Scott's arm. "Do it."

Scott nodded, more to himself than Stiles. He could do this. It was important. He _had_ to. Deaton needed his help.

Closing his eyes, Scott drew a deep breath. The roar he let out rattled him down to his toes; he could feel the vibration spread through every inch of his body. The floor seemed to tremble under him— he could hear, in the distance, locker doors and combinations clattering together. When he opened his eyes, there was satisfaction in the echo he could still hear.

Stiles gave an excited shout. "Ye-e-s! See, I _told_ you!"

Together, they made their way back outside to the front parking lot to meet Derek. Scott was a little surprised to see him looking pissed instead of impressed.

"I'm gonna kill both of you! What the hell was that? What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?"

"Sorry." Shaking his head, Scott looked from Derek to Stiles and back. "I didn't know it would be that loud."

"Yeah, it was loud." Stiles snorted. "And it was _awesome!"_

"Shut up." Derek shook his head. "This was why I wanted Malia here, to help balance the… _stupid_."

Stiles flipped a hand up dismissively. "Don't be such a sour wolf."

Scott frowned, squinting at the back window of the Camaro. "What'd you do with him?"

"What?" Derek turned around, searching the backseat that was now noticeably absent of a certain veterinarian. Deaton was gone. Brow knit, he looked back at them. "I didn't do anything."

Before anyone could say anything more, suddenly Derek suspended in the air, his feet dangling a few inches off the ground. He hung, limply, his arms out as he coughed and choked, blood dribbling down his chin. The Alpha stood at his side, a hulking beast. His face was canine in nature; covered in dark fur with a full, flat nose, and unnaturally red glowing eyes. There was little human to find. Letting out a grumbling roar, he stood with his arm extended, a hand stuck through Derek's back, skewering him.

Scott and Stiles scrambled backwards, grabbing and pulling at each other as they turned on their heels and fled toward the school. As they climbed the stairs to the unlocked door, the Alpha threw Derek away like a ragdoll— he slammed into the brick wall of the school before falling to the ground, unmoving, his gaze empty.

Inside the school, Scott and Stiles crouched down by the doors, holding them closed.

"Lock it, lock it!" Scott cried.

Stiles shook his head, staring at him incredulously. "Do I look like I have a key!?"

"Grab something!"

" _What?_ "

"Anything!"

Stiles paused, his eyes widening. He stood slowly and peeked out through the window in the door. There, on the ground, were the bolt cutters he'd used to cut the chain from the door in the first place.

Scott stood too, spotted what he was staring at, and said, "No."

"Yes." Stiles shoved the flashlight into Scott's arms and pushed the door open.

"Stiles, no, don't!"

Carefully slipping out the door, Stiles gently closed it behind him, his gaze darting across the open and, seemingly, empty parking lot. There was only his jeep and, behind it, Derek's Camaro. Letting out a shaky breath, he turned his attention to the bolt cutters, laying on the ground. Pushing off the door, he hurried down the steps and leaned down to pick them up. Just as he did, however, the Alpha came out from behind the jeep.

Seeing it, Scott banged his hands against the door to get Stiles' attention. "He's back! He's back!"

Eyes widening, Stiles turned and raced up the stairs, falling through the open door and yanking it closed. He shoved the bolt cutters down over the door handles, each side locking them into place. They crouched down and waited for the Alpha to attack the door, but when one and then two and a third second passed without incident, they slowly stood back up and peered out the windows.

"Where is it?" Scott wondered. "Where'd it go?"

Stiles grabbed for the flashlight and turned it out the window, searching for movement. But there was nothing. No sign of where it was or what direction it might have gone in.

Backing away from the door, they were left panting and afraid.

"That won't hold, will it?"

Stiles looked at him, wide-eyed. "Probably not."

Together, they turned to face the eerily dark and empty hallway.

They were alone, and they were trapped.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

In the library, Malia leaned her chair back from the table, hands stacked on her stomach. "I feel like dinner was enough. We should just skip the tutoring part and cross our fingers for the test on Friday."

Snorting, Danny reached down and brought his backpack up from the floor. "I thought you might say that. Which is why… I brought an incentive." Pulling out a large bag of Skittles, he placed it on the table. "For every question you get right, you get a Skittle. If you get three in a row, I'll toss in another one."

"Meaning I get seven Skittles or I get two Skittles for every right question after that?"

"Two per right answer. If you get six in a row, I'll bump it up to three. You get the idea."

"Only you could combine candy and math in a way I actually like." Releasing her leg, she fell back toward the table. "All right, teach me."

Danny looked past her shoulder then. "Hey, looks like your friend showed up."

Malia turned in her seat to see an awkward and nervous Erica walking toward them. She had her books hugged to her chest and was chewing her lip. "Hey. You made it!"

"Yeah. My uncle dropped me off." Erica slipped into a chair beside Malia and took a quick look around. "Are we the only people here?"

"The librarian's in the back, but yeah. We've got the whole library to ourselves. Which is nice, because if I'm getting candy every time I'm right, I'm gonna be loud and obnoxious."

Erica snorted. "Good to know." She paused. "Hey, weird question but, did you guys hear that weird noise earlier? It was really loud, kind of sounded like a howl, actually…"

Malia and Danny exchanged a look. "Nope." She shrugged. "But we were also singing along to the Spice Girls greatest hits for a while. Maybe Mel B.'s vocal range was better."

Half-smiling, Erica nodded. "Maybe."

"All right." Malia drummed her hands against the top of the table. "Hit me with your worst. No, wait, start small and work your way up."

Shaking his head, amused, Danny flipped through his cards and cleared his throat.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Scott and Stiles were hiding in a classroom, standing on either end of a desk, panting as they argued over whether they should use it to block the door.

"Stop, stop." Stiles motioned behind himself. "The door's not gonna keep it out."

"I know."

"It's your boss."

Scott felt dizzy with the sudden change of topic. "What?"

"Deaton? The _Alpha?_ " Stiles nodded, pointing at him. "Your boss."

Scott shook his head. "No."

"Yes. Murdering _psycho_ werewolf."

"He _can't_ be."

"Oh, come on. He disappears, and that thing shows up ten seconds later to toss Derek 20 feet through the air?" He shrugged, his eyes wide. "That's not convenient timing?"

"It's not him."

"He _killed_ Derek!"

"No, Derek's not dead." Scott's stomach bottomed out. "He- He can't be dead."

"Blood _spurted_ out of his mouth, okay?" Stiles flipped a hand around. "That doesn't exactly qualify as a _minor_ injury. He's dead, and we're next."

Scott groaned. "No, no, no…" He shook his head. "Malia's gonna lose it."

"What? _Malia?_ What are you talking about?"

"Yes, Malia. The only one of us who got close to Derek. Who _liked_ him!" He sighed. "She let him stay at her house. In _Kylie's_ room… Stiles, she was letting him get close."

"An hour ago, you were freaking out over the idea that they were close."

"That was before…" Scott dragged his hands over his head and through his hair. "This is going to hurt her. It- It's gonna break her heart."

Stiles sighed, his eyes falling closed. "And I get that. I don't want that either. But Scott, we need to stay focused, okay? There's nothing we can do about Derek."

"What _can_ we do?"

Stiles considered the question for a moment, his gaze darting around, and then he nodded. "We get to my jeep, we get out of here, you _seriously_ think about quitting your job, good?"

They moved to the windows then and Scott immediately tried to pull them open.

Stiles stopped him. "No, they don't open. The school's climate-controlled."

"Then we _break_ it."

"Which will make a _lot_ of noise."

"Then…" Scott searched the grounds outside, dressed in shadows, with no clear opportunity for cover or safety. "Uh, then we run really fast." He turned and looked at just how far away the jeep was. " _Really_ fast."

"Easy for you to say," Stiles muttered, "you're a freaking werewolf."

Scott frowned. "Stiles, what's wrong with the hood of your jeep?

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong."

"It's _bent_."

"What, like, dented?" Stiles hurried to get a look at it through the window, his brow furrowed.

"No, I mean bent."

"What the hell—?"

A crash cut Stiles off, following by glass spraying through the air. Both boys hit the floor, covering their heads. Something hard and heavy hit the ground and dragged across it.

Face screwed up in anger, Stiles said, "That's my battery." He tried to stand, but Scott yanked him back down.

"Don't."

"We have to move."

"He could be right outside!"

"He _is_ right outside."

Scott was panting, his nerves getting the better of him. "Just let me check." Slowly, he stood, peering over the edge to peek out the window. There was nothing near the jeep or in the lot just outside the window. Everything looked just as empty as it had before.

"Anything?" Stiles wondered.

"No."

"Move now?"

Scott nodded. "Move now."

Together, they hurried into the hall, the beam of Stiles' flashlight bouncing around the hallway.

Scott pointed to the right. "This way."

"No, no, no, no." Stiles stopped him. "Somewhere without windows."

"Every single room in this place has windows!" Scott reminded him in a frustrated whisper.

"Right, so, _less_ windows."

Scott looked away, thinking, but his brain felt like it was moving two notches slower than usual. Panic and worry was climbing up from his gut to crowd his throat. And then— an idea. "The locker room!"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah!"

They hurried down the hall to the right, glancing behind them periodically, as if the Alpha might just pop up out of nowhere.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia had accumulated a small pile of Skittles, all of which she was hoarding. She planned to shove them all into her mouth at the same time until they formed a large Skittles _ball_. Which, she had no doubt, would make Danny cringe. Obviously, completely worth it…

Shuffling the cards, Danny sighed. "I should've brought something with less sugar."

Erica's eyebrow arched. "Somehow, I don't think carrots would have the same effect."

Malia grinned. "I wouldn't turn down a carrot, but when it comes to math, you've gotta break out the hard hitters."

"At least you get a reward." Erica tapped her book with her pencil. "I'm pretty sure the best I can do on any of these overdue assignments is a 'B' and that's if I pull off some kind of miracle."

Malia leaned over. "What are you working on?"

"This one's pre-calculus… That one's history… And I have an English paper due this weekend that I wanted to get the outline done for."

"Which one's the hardest?"

"Pre-calc. I'm good at it, but it takes up a lot of time."

"Start there," Danny suggested. "That way, once you get that finished, everything else seems easy in comparison."

Sighing, Erica nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense." Pulling her pre-calc book toward her, she flipped it open.

Suddenly, a crashing noise echoed through the library, making each of them flinch. Malia turned in her seat, searching the library, but nothing looked out of place. Standing from her chair, she said, "Stay here. I'll check it out."

Erica shot up from her seat. "Last time you said that, there was a mountain lion in the store."

Malia glanced at her. "Last time you followed me, we found a dead body."

Gulping, Erica raised her chin. "Better with you than on my own."

Danny cleared his throat and drew their attention. "It was probably just the wind, it knocked one of the doors closed."

"Yeah, well." Malia shrugged. "Can't hurt to check it out."

"Sounds like an easy excuse to avoid studying."

She grinned. "My pile of Skittles suggests I deserve a break." Taking one, she popped it in her mouth, and then moved toward the open library doors. The hallway just outside of it was dimly lit. To the right, the hall split in two directions, leading deeper into the school, but the doors were chained shut. To the left was a door that exited into the courtyard, which was usually left open, but was now clearly closed.

"See? I told you." Danny took up the rear, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

Humming, Malia moved toward the door.

Erica was right beside her, nervous and unsure.

"He's probably right. It's just the wind—" As Malia tried to open the door, it wouldn't budge. Frowning, she pushed at the other door, but it did nothing as well. Shoving her shoulder against it, she pushed as hard as she could. The best it would do was open a couple inches, just enough for her to see that a crowbar was shoved through the outer handles.

Erica backed away, her eyes wide with fright. "That's not accidental. Nobody does that unless they're trying to trap you inside."

Malia stared down at the bar a long beat, closed her eyes, and then took a deep breath. Turning around, she said, "Find Trisha. We need to get out of here, and fast."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Stumbling deep into the the locker room, Scott and Stiles were arguing over calling in Stiles' dad.

"What am I supposed to tell him?"

"I don't know, anything. Gas leak, a fire, _whatever_." He turned to Stiles, his eyes wide and insistent. "If that thing sees the parking lot filled with cop cars, it'll take off."

"What if it doesn't? What if it goes completely Terminator and kills every cop in sight, including my dad?" He shook his head. "You said it yourself, we're not sure this thing really knows what it's doing. Just because Derek thinks it does, doesn't mean he's right. Look, the Alpha could seriously hurt them."

"They have guns!"

Stiles threw a hand up. "Yeah, and Derek had to be shot with a wolfsbane-laced bullet to even slow him down, you remember that?"

Scott rolled his eyes and sighed. All right, good point, not that he liked it all that much. "Then we— We have to— We have to find a way out and just run for it."

"There's nothing near the school for at least a mile."

Scott's brows hiked. "What about Derek's car?"

"How do we know the Alpha didn't do the exact same thing to his car as he did to my jeep? What if we get all the way out there and it's just a trap?"

"Okay, then… Then I don't know! You come up with something!"

Stiles nodded. "We call Malia."

"Malia!?" Scott frowned. " _Why?_ She doesn't even have a car! And— And I don't want her to come here. In fact, I want her as far away from here as possible."

"I get that, I do. But, we're running out of options here. And she might not have a car, but Danny does. That's who she's studying with, right?" He nodded. "They were going to meet at…" He trailed off as realization dawned.

Simultaneously, they said, " _The school!_ "

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Allison was laughing at something Lydia had said when her phone started buzzing atop the table. Opening it, she stared down at a text that had just arrived. — ' _Meet me at the school. URGENT. – Scott_ '

Frowning, she switched over to Malia in her messages. —' _hey, just got a weird text from scott. any idea what's happening?_ '

"What's with that face?" Lydia wondered.

Allison looked up, her brow furrowed. "What face?"

"You got a text and then all the happiness _drained_ out of you. What's up?"

"No, nothing like that. I just got a text from Scott and…" She shook her head. "I don't know. I have a bad feeling. I think I'm going to head over to school."

"The school?" Lydia raised an eyebrow. "The only people at school on a Wednesday night are losers or janitors."

"Some might say those two things intersect," Jackson snarked.

Allison rolled her eyes. "It's fine. Malia's at the school. And I guess Scott, too, because he just texted me to meet him there. Said it was urgent."

"Urgent like… you two are going to make out in an empty school? Because that's not cute. That stuff gets around and you don't want that kind of reputation." Lydia's brows arched. " _I_ don't want you to have that kind of reputation."

"Because it'll affect me or you…?" Allison wondered, amused.

Lydia paused a beat before saying, " _Both._ " She scoffed. "Anyway, you two aren't serious anymore. If you ever even were. You don't need to answer his vague booty calls."

"It's not a booty call. And…" She glanced at Jackson, feeling awkward about sharing the personal details of her life in front of him.

"You might as well say it." He smirked. "Lydia will tell me anyway."

Allison frowned. "It doesn't matter. He said it was urgent and… we're friends. Or we're trying to be. Either way, I feel like I should check it out."

"Fine." Lydia grabbed her purse. "Then we'll all go."

Jackson's lip curled. "We will?"

"Yes, we will, because Allison is our friend. And because she caught a ride here with us, so I'm not letting her _walk_ the school." She shrugged. "Plus, after we're done figuring out what Scott's urgent problem is, I still want to hang out. And if I'm not there to remind her we have plans, she'll get sucked into the vortex that is Scott and/or Malia."

Snorting to herself, Allison shook her head. Hooking her bag over her shoulder, she made her way up to the front counter to pay, checking her phone periodically, and frowning when there was no reply from Malia. A deep pit in her stomach said something was very wrong.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Just as the boys scrambled toward the locker room door, with Stiles digging his phone out of his pocket, Scott stopped them, a hand pressed to Stiles' chest. "Just wait. I heard something."

"Something like Malia, safe and sound, yucking it up with Danny in the library?"

"No, something like…" His brow furrowed "Just be quiet." Closing his eyes, he tipped his head and stretched his hearing. But just as he swore he caught the familiar lilt of Malia's voice, something else overpowered it. Something loud and heavy, and moving in their direction.

Suddenly, he and Stiles were backing away from the door. Scott reached out and shoved Stiles' flashlight down, covering the beam.

Stiles turned it toward himself, muting it against his shirt.

"Hide," Scott told him.

Abruptly, Stiles reached for a locker door, pulling it open despite the loud, rattling noise it made, and climbed inside.

"No!" But it was too late, he was lodged inside, and Scott could do nothing but find a locker to hide in himself.

Scott stared through the slats of the locker door, but couldn't see who or what had entered the room. He could hear footsteps coming in his direction and waited, his heart pounding hard in his chest. As something passed by the door, his breath caught. Scott covered his mouth, but it was too late.

The door swung open and there stood—

The custodian.

Startled at finding Scott inside the locker, the janitor screamed in shock. Only to scream again as he turned and found Stiles falling out of his own locker.

" _Shh, shh, shh!"_ Stiles said.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Quiet!"

"Quiet, my ass. What the hell are you trying to do, kill me?" The janitor pointed to the door. "Both of you, get out."

"Just listen for half a second, okay?" Stiles begged.

"Not okay." Eyes wide and still panting through his panic, the man grabbed Scott's shoulder and shoved him toward the door. "Get the hell out of here right now." He hustled both boys out the door and into the hallway.

Stumbling, Stiles turned back to him. "Just one second to explain."

Unwilling to listen, the custodian pointed down the hall. "Just shut up and go."

Abruptly, the janitor was yanked back through the door, which closed behind him. His body was thrown against it and his terrified screams echoed around a snarling growl. Blood spattered the window as he was pulled away and then thrown back, screaming and clawing at the door.

Scott scrambled forward and pushed at the handle, but there was nothing he could do. The door wouldn't budge and the custodian was being mauled to death before their eyes.

Stiles grabbed at Scott and pulled him away. "Go, go!"

As they ran down the hallway, the locker room door broke from its hinges and landed on the floor with the limp body of the janitor. He lay there, dead, until he was pulled by his ankles back into the depths of the locker room.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Outside the school, Allison chewed her lip. Stiles' jeep was there, which was only mildly comforting. The front door to the school was open, a chain hanging ominously from the handle. A chill ran down her back, warning her of impending danger, and still she found herself stepping forward.

Lydia pushed her door open and popped out of the car. "Are you sure about this?"

Allison glanced at her. "He said it was urgent."

"What's so urgent that he needs you to run to the school?" Lydia shook her head. "This has creepy written all over it."

"Yeah, you don't need me to state the obvious, do you?" Jackson stood on the other side of his car, arms resting on the hood, hands clasped together.

"That it looks like they broke in? Yeah, I noticed." She took a deep breath and shook her head. "Only way to get answers is to find him."

" _Or_ wish him the best and go home to avoid this Texas Chainsaw Massacre wannabe." Lydia rolled her eyes. "Did Malia ever text back?"

Digging her phone out once more, Allison found no new messages. "No… And that's what worries me."

"Okay. I vote we leave," Lydia decided.

Jackson nodded. "Seconded."

"You guys can go, seriously. But, I'm going to find out what happened." Allison gathered up her courage and walked to the stairs, climbing them despite how weak her knees suddenly felt.

Behind her, Lydia was frowning. Climbing back into Jackson's car, she crossed her arms, and refused to admit that she was worried.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Seeing an exit in the distance, Scott and Stiles hurried toward it. They quickly shoved it, only to find it blocked. There was a dumpster on the other side, pinning the doors closed.

"He pushed it in front of the door to block us in." Stiles continued to shove at the door, trying to dislodge it, but there was no use. "Come on, help me!"

"Stiles, stop." Scott pulled him away and they started down another hallway, in search of yet another exit.

"I'm not dying here. I'm not dying at _school_."

"We're not gonna die."

"How do you know? Huh?" He laughed sarcastically. "Last month, you would've said there's no such things as werewolves, but here we are, being chased by one." He shook his head. "God, what does he want?"

" _Me._ Derek says it's stronger with a pack."

"Oh, great. A psychotic werewolf who's into team work. That's— That's beautiful."

"Look, we don't just have to find an exit. Malia is here! I heard her. She's in the school."

"Wait." Stiles turned to him. "If she is here and she doesn't know what's happening on this end, that means that maybe the Alpha hasn't made it to that part of the school. Maybe he's only blocking off this end because he doesn't think we can get over there…" Stiles nodded, his eyes darting around. "They keep a door open near the library. If we can get over there—"

"But the library is blocked off from the rest of the school. All the doors will be chained shut."

"So, we go back for the bolt cutters."

"That means going by the locker room, the same one we _know_ the Alpha was just in."

Stiles sighed. "Okay… Okay, new plan. _Malia_ gets the bolt cutters, swings back around, cuts the chain on her end, we get through, we all make a run for it."

Scott looked skeptical. "We don't actually know where the Alpha is. If Malia does that, she could run right into him."

" _Scott_ …" He reached out and gripped his shoulders. "She's in the same school as us, okay? That means that eventually, the Alpha will notice there's another way in and out. She's already in danger. And if we tell her that, she's going to wonder how we know, and then she's going to figure out that we're in the school. I'll give you two guesses about what she's going to do. but you only need one."

Scott sighed. "She'll save us."

" _Bingo_. Now, our best option is to talk to her ourselves, tell her what's happening, and work on a plan together. Otherwise, she's going to arm herself with Danny's tire iron and go toe-to-toe with Alpha. So, can we do that? Can we call her?"

Chewing his lip, Scott nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

"All right. Thank you." Digging his phone out, Stiles plugged in Malia's number, but after a few rings, it flipped over to voice mail. "Son of a…" Muttering under his breath, he dropped the phone, ended the call, and opened his messages, thumbing out a quick, frustrated text. —' _RED. Danger. S-O-FREAKING-S!'_

"Okay, slight deviation from the plan… We find the door closest to the library… We call out for help. Malia hears us, finds us, and we're back on track."

Unable to argue, Scott nodded. "Okay." However, while they were walking down the hall, past a long bank of windows, Scott caught sight of something across the way. A dark figure on top of the roof of the adjacent building. Noticing them in return, the Alpha started racing across the roof in their direction.

Scott and Stiles turned and fled. Behind them, the windows shattered as the Alpha leapt through them, knocking into a wall before he got his feet under him and gave chase. They rushed through a door that opened onto a dark stairwell and hurried down it, escaping into the basement below.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"We should call somebody." Erica paced around their table. "Our parents, the Sheriff, _someone_."

Malia chewed her lip. She couldn't exactly say that she had a feeling a homicidal werewolf was what had trapped them inside the school. That would sound crazy. But she was more than a little worried that calling in any kind of back up would only end poorly. Nobody was prepared to take on an Alpha because almost no one knew what an Alpha was. 'Almost' being the key word. Malia grabbed up her bag and dug around in it until she found her phone. She'd turned the ringer off so she could focus, but now that she was seeing all the missed calls and texts, she really wished she hadn't.

Malia thumbed through all of Stiles' frantic messages. It started off at the clinic, with Derek taking Deaton hostage. _What the hell?_ And then progressed to them coming to the school to try and get the Alpha's attention... Which sounded _phenomenally_ stupid and she fully expected a serious explanation as to why that was their plan of action as soon as this insanity was over. That did remind Malia of what Erica had said, however, about hearing a loud noise; she wondered if that was Scott's howl. Finally, she reached the last text— ' _RED. Danger. S-O-FREAKING-S!'_

Wincing, Malia thumbed in a response. —' _where are you guys?_ '

She was relieved to see the little bubble appear soon after. —' _basement. trapped the furry bastard in a room. HAH! take that. big bad alpha my ass_ '

Malia breathed out a little sigh of relief. —' _we're in the library. there's a crowbar across the door. we're trapped. danny's talking to trisha. she can unlock the doors to the main hallway. we'll meet you halfway!'_

This time, the response wasn't so quick. In fact, it took long enough that Malia was starting to worry. Finally, however, a text came in, only it wasn't as reassuring as she'd hoped. —' _RED RED RED. i was wrong. he's out! stay put. you're safer there!'_

She scowled. —' _what? NO! where are you? i'll come for you!'_ She waited impatiently for a reply, but when it didn't come, she typed out another text. —' _stiles! answer me! the more you wait, the more worried i get. i'm not going to hide in this library and wait for it to kill us. we're sitting ducks!_ '

"Malia?"

She looked up to see Danny walking toward her, a worried Trisha right behind him. She was on the shorter side with curly orange hair, a face of freckles, and narrow glasses perched on her nose.

Fiddling with the keys hanging from her lanyard, Trisha said, "You're sure the door won't open?"

"Trust me, it's not moving." Malia shook her head. "We need to get into the main school. We can find an exit through there."

"I'm not supposed to let students in there after hours. We should call Al, he's the custodian on tonight. He can find a way to get us out."

"We don't have time for that."

Trisha frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Listen…" Malia swallowed tightly. "Whoever put that crow bar there, they're not playing a prank. I think they're dangerous and I think we need to get out of here."

"Dear, I've been working here a long time. We have plenty of children who—"

A distant, but loud bang could be heard then, and a fine tremble rocked the floor. Malia felt Erica's hand wrap around her elbow and squeeze.

Gritting her teeth, she turned to Trisha. "Something is wrong and we _need_ to leave."

Trisha looked from her to Erica to Danny, before finally sighing. "All right. Get your things."

Relieved, Malia moved to the table and started shoving her books into her bag. It knocked into her pile of Skittles and sent them skittering in every direction. Shaking her head, she swung her arm out, and brought it toward her, swiping everything in her path into the open mouth of her backpack.

Danny stared at her flatly. "Seriously?"

"Waste not want not." Swinging her bag over her shoulder, she turned to Erica, who was staring down at her open homework with glazed eyes. "Hey, I know this is scary, but we can do this." She closed Erica's books and shoved them into her bag for her before sliding it over Erica's arm and onto her shoulder. "We'll get into the main hall and check every exit and window until we find a way out."

Danny turned to her. "You think the others are blocked, too?"

"I'm planning for the worst." Taking Erica's arms, Malia turned her so they were facing one another. "I got you out last time, right?"

Erica nodded, slow and jerky.

"I'll get you out this time, too." Malia held a hand out, her pinkie extended. "I promise."

Erica stared at it a beat and then reached out, hooking her pinkie around Malia's. "O-Okay." She took a deep breath. "I trust you."

Trisha appeared then, her jacket on and her bag slung over her shoulder. "Ready?"

Malia nodded. "Yeah. Let's get out of here."

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _i ended up cutting this chapter in half because it was huge. so my favorite scene will actually be next chapter. as an apology for the tease, however, i may possibly update with the second half early, like on wednesday, since it's finished and just needs some editing._

 _a lot of this chapter was taken right from the episode, mostly the scott/stiles scenes, because there's a lot of necessary information that helps keep everyone aware of people's locations and what they're doing while things are just about to kick off for malia. things will be getting very intense soon and i'm very excited to share my favorite scene and what actually ended up being a huge reason why i wanted to write this story._

 _i hope you like everything even if it does feel a lot like a filler right now._

 _lastly, i'm so sorry i'm behind on answering reviews. i plan to get to those tomorrow, when i get off work!_

 **things to look forward to next chapter** : _allison and gang run into scott and stiles; malia makes a plan; jackson is an ass; an alpha hunts his prey; and a girl finds a boy._

 _thanks for reading, please leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	19. night school 2

**word count** : 13,900  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : 1x07 - night school

* * *

 **warning(s)** : explicit violence and discussion of gore/blood

* * *

 **XIX**

It was in the lobby that Scott and Stiles ran into Allison, who looked simultaneously freaked out and relieved to see them. He walked toward her, shaking his head. "What're you doing here?"

Hugging an arm around herself, she glanced away, confused. "Because you asked me to."

Scott pulled a face. "I asked you to?"

"Yeah… you sent me a text, you said it was urgent." She thumbed through her messages on her phone and then showed it to him. "I texted Malia to see what was going on, but she never answered. I was worried, so I thought I should check it out, make sure you were okay."

"Malia's in the library." Stiles rubbed a hand over his head, scrubbing his fingers down his neck. "We're headed there now."

Allison shook her head. "What are you guys even doing here, and why did you text me?"

Scott rubbed his hands over his face. "I _didn't_ text you. I lost my phone!"

Allison's face fell. "Then who did?"

"Never mind that." Stiles' brows hiked. "Did you drive here?"

She frowned. "Jackson did."

"Jackson's here, too?" Scott shot Stiles a look. They already had enough on their plate, now they had to add Jackson, too?

"And Lydia. They're waiting outside. What's going on? Who sent this text? And _why_ would they want me to come to the school? This makes _no_ sense!" Allison's phone started ringing then. Checking the screen, she answered it. "Lydia, hey. Just give me a few minutes, I'm trying to figure out—"

The door behind Allison swung open then, admitting an annoyed Lydia and Jackson. "Finally," Lydia said, putting her phone back in her purse. "Can we go now?"

Allison nodded, but Scott and Stiles shared a look. It wasn't that simple, proven abruptly by the thudding noise that echoed from above. Raising his eyes to the ceiling, Scott tracked the rustling noise as it moved along the ceiling panels. The added weight of what he was sure had to be the Alpha was making the metal creak and whine. Dust and debris fell from above, a sign that it wasn't going to hold.

Deciding it was smarted to react than to wait, he shouted, " _Run!_ "

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Trisha was hesitating. She stood before the door that led down the right side of the hallway, keys jangling in her hand. "Are we really sure this is serious? When Al hears his messages, he'll realize where we are and I just know he'll come let us out."

"We don't have time for that." Malia stared at her insistently. "Look, we're not hanging around to vandalize the school or something." She waved a hand at Danny. "You really think he'd go along with that?"

Danny offered his most charming grin, dimples and all.

Trisha sighed. "I could lose my job if anything happens."

"There are worse things." Malia nodded toward the lock. "All we want to do is get out of this school. If you don't mention it to anyone, neither will we."

Searching Malia's face, Trisha finally drew a deep breath. She unlocked the chain, pulled it free, and pressed down on the lever. Pushing the door, she kicked the stand down to prop it open and waved them through.

Malia went first, checking every shadowy corner for signs that they weren't alone. She couldn't hear anything but the soles of their shoes squeaking against the floor. While she wasn't exactly a _fan_ of school, she'd never been afraid to walk its halls. Here, now, she was.

Erica kept close to her, fiddling with the hanging strap of her bag. "Now what?"

"You go ahead and find an exit," Trish told them. "I'm going to find Al and see if we can't sort this out."

Malia shook her head. "You shouldn't go alone."

Trish waved a hand dismissively. "A few rowdy teenagers don't scare me."

"I don't think that's what this is." Malia gritted her teeth. "We should stay together until we get out."

"You three can do exactly that." Trisha pointed down the hall and then hung her lanyard around her neck once more. " _Go_. I'll see you all in school tomorrow."

A well of warning formed in Malia's stomach and her fingers twitched anxiously. But there was nothing she could do or say that was going to change the librarian's mind. Instead, she had to watch her leave, all the while hoping she didn't become the Alpha's next victim.

Erica abruptly turned to face Malia. "We should have weapons, just in case."

Danny frowned. "Like what?"

"I have a bat in my locker."

Malia's brows hiked. "Why?"

"I like to play softball at lunch sometimes. It helps relieve stress."

Shrugging, Malia said, "Okay. Not a bad idea."

"What about us?" Danny wondered. "I left my lacrosse stick at home."

Malia thought it over. They were in a school, so the best they were going to do was find a few meter sticks. Her gaze fell then, and landed on the chain hanging from the door handle. "Here." Pulling it free of the lever, she handed it to Danny.

Holding it across the palms of both hands, he stared down at the chain a long second. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

"If you slap someone in the face with it, it'll hurt." Malia nodded. "You wanna get really violent, you can wrap it around their neck."

He squinted at her. "Sometimes you scare me."

Malia sighed and turned to Erica. "Let's find your locker."

Nodding, Erica started walking, and the other two followed.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

A panicked Allison was freaking out as she stood in the dark and empty cafeteria.

 _Derek Hale._

That was who Scott said had attacked them. Who had crashed through the lobby ceiling and chased them here, to a terrible hiding spot with too many windows. Vaguely, she found herself thinking that her next lunch hour would definitely be spent with Malia— _outside_ , under her tree. As if in answer to that thought, Allison's phone buzzed in her hand. Turning it over, she found Malia's name staring back at her.

"Malia?" Allison hated that her voice shook. Hated that the fine tremble that had started as soon as Scott yelled 'run' and hadn't stopped was making the phone knock against her ear.

Scott whipped around to face her, his eyes wide.

Scrubbing her fingers through her hair, Allison tucked it behind her ear. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the school." Malia's voice was pitched low, like she was trying to whisper. "Where are you? You said you got a text from Scott? He lost his phone."

"I- I know." She huffed a near hysterical laugh. "The text said it was him, that it was urgent. I- I was _worried_."

"Allison, you _need_ to get out of the school. Right now."

"I can't." Allison squeezed her eyes closed as they burned. "It's too late. We're barricaded in the cafeteria."

"Who's ' _we_ '?"

"Me, Lydia, Jackson, Scott and Stiles."

Malia sighed. " _Damn it_."

"Where are you?" Allison opened her eyes and rubbed at her forehead. "Are you in the library? Can you get out?" Lydia crowded closer to her, her hand winding around Allison's forearm.

Scott had crossed the floor, searching her face as she spoke.

"The door outside the library was blocked. We can't get out that way. But the librarian has a key, she let us into the main part of the school."

"No. _Go back_." Allison shook her head. "He can get to you."

"I have a feeling he'd get to us either way," she muttered. "Look, find somewhere safe to hide. All of you. Stay as quiet as you can. And when I say quiet, I mean _quiet_ … I'm going to find you guys, okay?"

"Malia…" Allison gnawed at her lip and hugged an arm around herself, crossing it over her chest and hooking it over her shoulder. "Be careful."

"I will." In a strange way, her certainty comforted Allison. "Can you put Stiles on?"

"Yeah. Sure." Allison handed the phone to Stiles, while Lydia started peppering her with questions.

"Hey." Stiles backed away from the group, moving to the window and turning to try and keep the conversation private. "Guess how many windows are in the cafeteria?"

"Too many."

"Yeah." He snorted. "You're telling me."

"Look, I have an idea." Malia sighed. "It's not fully formed yet, but it's getting there."

Stiles nodded hurriedly. "Oh, I'm definitely open to hearing it."

"I'm going to create a distraction and you guys are going to find a better hiding place."

"Yeah." His brows hiked and he scrubbed a hand over his hair. "And how are you going to do that?"

"I'll get creative. Where's the jeep?"

"Out front, but it's useless." He threw a hand up, despite knowing she couldn't see him. "The, uh, the Alpha removed the battery and threw it through the window. Jackson parked out there, though."

"Just what I always wanted, a shiny toy car." She paused a moment. Her next question was softer, gentler. "Are you okay?"

He snorted. "Physically or psychologically?"

" _Both_."

"No, not really." He shook his head and chewed the inside of his cheek. "We— We're not hurt, but…"

"Yeah. I get it."

"The, uh… The janitor is dead." He closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers along the length of his nose. "We watched it happen."

"Stiles…"

"Yeah, just the first of many traumas, right?"

"I'm sorry. That's— It's screwed up."

Stiles ground his teeth and nodded. "But you're okay? You're safe?"

"Yeah. We haven't had any run-ins. So far, anyway." She let out a heavy sigh. "Just sit tight, okay? Try to keep them calm, but be ready to run. There's gotta be a room somewhere with less windows."

"Okay, yeah." His brow furrowed. "But, how will I know you've set off your distraction?"

Her voice was wry as she said, "You'll know."

With a click, she hung up.

Lowering it, Stiles stared at the blank screen a beat and then walked back to the group. He handed the phone off to Allison and then turned to Scott, checking in that he'd heard everything. When he got a nod back, he faced the others. "Malia's working on a way to get to us. She's got a plan to lure Derek away, so we'll have time to get out of here and somewhere else."

"Am I the only one wondering the obvious?" Jackson's brows hiked. "Why aren't we calling the police?"

Stiles flinched. "No."

Jackson scoffed incredulously. "W-What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean no. You wanna hear it in Spanish? _No_." His eyes shot wide, brows hiked dramatically. "Derek killed three people, okay? We don't know what he's armed with."

"Your dad is armed with an entire Sheriff's department!" Jackson's voice raised with his increasing frustration. " _Call him_."

Lydia dug around in her purse until she found her phone. "I'm calling."

"No, Lydia, would you just hold on a sec—" Stiles attempted to follow her, but Jackson got in the way, shoving at his chest to push him back.

Scott crossed the room and put himself between Jackson and Stiles, a hand outstretched to keep Jackson at bay. "Hey…" He stared Jackson down, who merely glared back.

Lydia's worried voice drew their attention then. "Yes, we're at Beacon Hills high school. We're trapped, and we need you to—" She stopped. "But…" Lowering her phone, she stared at it, confused. "She hung up on me."

Allison's brow furrowed. "The police hung up on you?"

"She said they got a tip warning them that there were gonna be prank calls about a break-in at the high school. She said if I called again that they're gonna trace it and have me arrested."

"Okay, then call again!" Allison insisted.

"No, they won't trace a cell. And they'll send a car to your house before they send anyone here." Stiles shook his head. "They're not coming."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Danny and Erica huddled together, flinching at any and every sound. Erica gripped her bat tightly, letting it rest against her shoulder, while Danny held either end of the chain in his hands, the rest of it hanging slack.

When Malia rejoined them, Danny informed her that he'd tried calling 9-1-1 but they'd hung up on him, something about the police getting a tip about crank phone calls involving the school.

Malia wasn't sure if she was relieved or not. At least that limited the chances of Sheriff Stilinski getting hurt, but it also meant that the Alpha had planned at least part of this. Did they call in and leave a tip before transforming into the wolf and attacking, or were they working with someone? All she knew for sure was that a third victim lay dead in the school and they were all at risk of being the fourth.

Tapping her phone against her hand, Malia looked from Danny to Erica. "Listen, I've got some bad news..."

Erica froze, while Danny simply stared, waiting.

"The custodian is dead."

" _What?_ " they both exclaimed.

Malia waved her hands to quiet them and looked around quickly. Everything _seemed_ just as quiet as before, but she couldn't help feeling like everything they did or said made them a bright, red target. "We're not the only ones here. Stiles saw someone kill the custodian."

"Kill?" Erica shook her head. " _No_. No, no, no… I can't do this again. I can't f-find bodies a-and run for my life. I _can't_."

"Erica…" Malia caught her the shoulders and held her steady. "I've got a plan, okay? We're going to get out of this."

"How do you _know?_ "

Malia cast a quick look at Danny, who was more than a little unnerved as well. "I know you're scared. I'm scared, too. But freaking out isn't going to help us." She stared at Erica. "Take a deep breath, okay?"

Erica hesitated, but eventually drew in a shaky breath.

"Whatever happens, I'm going to be right here with you." She turned to Danny, her brows arched for emphasis. " _Both_ of you."

Danny nodded back.

"Now…" Malia stepped back. "Let's get out of here."

"What about Trisha?"

Malia shook her head. "She could be anywhere. We'll get out, get help, and they can find her." Turning on her heel, she faced the ominously dark and empty hallway ahead. Taking a deep breath, she started walking.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Scott paced around the cafeteria, wringing his hands worriedly. Malia was out there. Sure, she had a plan, but he was completely left out of the loop on it. Why didn't she want to talk to him? Why Stiles and not him? Maybe it was petty or stupid to wonder about, but it hurt, and it made him feel even more unsteady than before. She was out there and she could walk right into the Alpha's path at any moment and he couldn't do anything. Not while he was here, trapped behind their makeshift barrier of tables and chairs.

Dragging his hands over his face, he groaned. He needed to focus. To calm down. If he did that, maybe he could find her, at least with his ears. Scott tried to breathe through it— he drew a deep breath, counted, and then let it out. Three times, he did this, but his head kept coming up with more and more gruesome ways for Malia to end up hurt. He needed to anchor himself, but _Malia_ was his anchor. Maybe Derek was right. Maybe having people for anchors was too unstable.

No.

 _No_. Because Malia had only ever been there for him, even on his worst days, when everything felt like it was slipping out from under him. When his dad wouldn't answer his calls and trips to visit kept getting cancelled. When he was ten and he got into a fight with him mom and then worried she might leave him, too. When his whole world turned on its head because he was bitten and turned into something against his will. Malia was always there. And she didn't always have to say something— sometimes there just weren't words— but she held his hand and she hugged him and even when she didn't say the words 'it's going to be okay,' he _felt_ them.

 _Thump... thump... thump..._

Her heartbeat filled his ears and with it came a warm blanket of reassurance.

" _Damn it,"_ she muttered. _"How is every door in this entire hallway locked?"_

 _"We should've asked Trisha to leave us her keys..."_ Danny sighed. _"What do we do?"_

 _"We keep looking. There has to be a door somewhere that isn't blocked."_

 _"Serious question, who the hell is blocking them?" a girl asked, her voice unfamiliar to Scott. "I- I mean, this is weird, right? First Saturday and now today."_

 _"Saturday was different,"_ Malia said.

 _"Was it?" The girl's voice went up a notch, wavering with fear. "The mountain lion is dead, right? So why does it feel the same? Like we're being stalked by something!"_

 _"I don't know. Okay? I don't have all the answers._ " Malia huffed, sounding frustrated. _"But I do know that standing around here isn't going to change anything. We need to keep moving. Eventually, we're going to find a door... There's only so many dumpsters and crowbars lying around…"_

"I don't understand this." Allison's fear-soaked voice sounded especially loud.

Scott had to shake his head and refocus on the room around him instead of wherever in the school Malia, Danny, and an unknown girl were hiding. She was okay, he told himself. That was all that mattered.

Allison looked around at the group and threw her hands up. "Why does Derek want to kill us? Why is he _killing_ anyone?"

Scott looked up to find everyone staring at him. "Why is everyone looking at _me?_ "

"Is he the one that sent her the text?" Lydia wondered, her voice shrill and scared.

"No. I mean—" He shook his head. "I- I don't know."

Allison stared at him, her brow knit. "Is he the one that called the police?"

Scott's frustration and fear boiled over. There was so much he couldn't say and so much he was worried about. Trying to keep it from them wasn't helping things. "I don't know!"

Allison's face fell and she stepped back, turning on her heel to face away from him.

"All right, why don't we ease back on the throttle here, yeah?" Stiles pushed at Scott's shoulder, dragging him away from the others. "Okay, first off, throwing Derek under the bus, nicely done."

"I-I-I didn't know what to say. I had to say _something_. And if he's dead then— Then it doesn't matter, right? Except if he's not…" He groaned. "Malia's gonna be so pissed."

"Uh, yeah, definitely." Stiles nodded. "Bigger issues at hand here, like how do we get out alive?"

"But we _are_ alive." Scott turned to him, his eyes wide. "It could've killed us already." It was like the girl said—they felt like they were being stalked, but they hadn't been attacked. "It's like it's cornering us or something."

"So, what?" Stiles waved a hand and shook his head. "He wants to eat us all at the same time?"

" _No_. Derek said it wants revenge."

"Against who?"

Scott looked away thoughtfully. "Allison's family?"

Realization dawned on Stiles. "Maybe that's what the text was about. Someone had to send it."

"And that's why the Alpha was outside her house the other night. It chased Malia, right? But it didn't attack her. _Or_ me. Maybe this was all a way to get to Allison."

"Okay, assheads— new plan!" Jackson announced, effectively drawing their attention. "Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. Are we good with that?" He looked around at everyone, brows hiked.

Scott closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers down the length of his nose. When he opened his eyes, he said, "Malia is working on something. She's got a plan."

"You really think we should risk our _lives_ hoping that Terrible Tate manages to pull something together that outwits a freaking serial killer?" Jackson scoffed. "No. I'm not waiting for her to pull off a miracle. We're getting out of here— _now_." He stabbed a finger in Stiles' direction. "Call. Your. _Dad_."

Stiles looked at Scott, saying quietly, "I'm not watching my dad get eaten alive." Shaking his head, he walked away.

Jackson rushed him. "All right, give me the phone." He grabbed at Stiles' shoulder.

As Stiles turned, he swung his fist out, connecting sharply with Jackson's face.

Jackson went stumbling sideways, bent over and clutching at his nose.

Allison's eyes shot wide, her hands stacked over her mouth in surprise.

Lydia stood, hugging her arms around herself.

Kneeling on the floor, Jackson tentatively probed his nose and mouth, his fingers coming back with blood.

Unrepentant, Stiles stared down at Jackson's bent form and rung his aching hand. "We wait for Malia. If nothing happens, then I'll call."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Do you have any idea how heavy dumpsters are?" Danny wondered. "And why would they block all the exits anyway?"

Malia glanced at him. "Well, it's not to spice up the school's aesthetic…"

Erica's eyes darted all around nervously. "What if they're in here? What if they can hear us?" She looked over her shoulder, checking the hall behind them, and her breathing started to pick up. "We should've gone with the librarian. She has the key." Nodding quickly now, she said, "We have to go back! We have to find her!"

Malia pulled to a stop. "We can't do that. Backtracking wastes time."

"We don't even know where we're going! What if we get to the end and there isn't a way out? What if—?"

"Erica, hey, you _need_ to calm down…"

"I can't!" Her breathing was erratic now and Malia recognized the signs of a full-blown panic attack easily enough. "I was just getting over the nightmares. I can't do it all over again."

Malia crossed the floor to her. "You're stressing out and it could trigger a seizure. You need to breathe."

With tear-filled eyes, she shook her head. "I can't. I c-can't."

"All right, okay." Malia gripped her shoulders. "I used to get panic attacks all the time. I'm going to show you something that help me, okay? "She nodded. "I want you to sing with me. Just focus on what I'm saying."

Erica's brow furrowed.

Clearing her throat, Malia nodded along to the beat in her head. " _If you wake up and don't want to smile, if it takes just a little while, open your eyes and look at the day, you'll see things in a different way... Don't stop thinking about tomorrow, don't stop, it'll soon be here... It'll be here, better than before... Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone..."_

Danny walked over too, his— admittedly better— voice melding with hers. " _Why not think about times to come? And not about the things that you've done? If your life was bad to you, just think what tomorrow will do_..."

Malia smiled encouragingly as they launched into the chorus again and Erica's mouth started to move along with them. She was still breathing a little too quick, but she was calming down.

Resting her head against the lockers behind her, Erica closed her eyes.

" _All I want is to see you smile, if it takes just a little while,_ _I know you don't believe that it's true, I never meant any harm to you..._ "

After another round with the chorus, Erica opened her eyes. "Okay. I- I'm okay."

"Good." Malia let her go and stepped back. "I know it's hard, because we don't know what's out there or what's going to happen. But we have a bat and a chain and if worse comes to worst, I'll personally claw their eyes out, okay?"

Sniffling, Erica reached up and wiped at her face. "Okay."

Malia started down the hall once more, Erica and Danny just behind her. "We just have to find another way out. If the doors are a bust… Then we need to use a window." Ahead, the hallway looking out onto the quad had an entire row of windows.

Erica frowned. "We're on the second floor."

"Plus, the windows are climate locked," Danny said. "We can't open them."

"I don't think we have to worry about that." Walking ahead, Malia spotted shattered glass spread across the floor. A cool wind was coming in through the broken window, making a faint whistling noise. Coming to a stop in front of the broken window, she leaned out, taking a look at the ground below. It wasn't an easy drop, but it was survivable. There were a few bushes below, too. If they landed in them, it would soften the fall. At least a little. "Okay." Nodding, she shrugged her bag off and then backed up. Taking a swing, she brought it forward, slamming it into the remaining glass, jagged and dangerous at the bottom of the window. Knocked free, it fell over the edge to land below.

Erica flinched at the noise it was making. "They could hear you!" she whisper-shouted.

"Then we need to be quick." Once the sill was mostly clear, she nodded. "Danny, come here."

Crossing the space between them, he looked out below. "What're you thinking?"

"You're the tallest. If you jump down, you can catch Erica."

Danny chewed his lip, he eyed the distance. "The bushes?"

"The bushes," she agreed. "Can you do it?"

"Coach'll be pissed if I get injured and can't play…"

"He'll be more pissed if you die. What's a few games versus the rest of ever?"

Danny snorted. "All right." He threw his own bag out the window and waited, watching to see if anyone came out to investigate. When no one did, he took a deep breath and stepped onto the sill. He planted his hands on the metal dividers in between each window, clear of any broken glass. "Next time, we study at my place."

"Deal."

Danny stepped out and his arms wind-milled as he dropped.

Malia held her breath, her heart pounding hard in her chest. There was a thud and then—

"I'm okay." Danny stood and nodded up at her.

Blowing out a shaky breath, her body loosened up in relief. "Okay." She turned to Erica. "Your turn."

Erica shook her head. "No, I- I can't."

Malia held a hand out to her. "Do you trust me?"

Erica stared at her hand a long moment. "Every time we hang out, I get chased by something trying to kill me." She sniffle-laughed, her eyes bright with tears.

"Maybe I'm bad luck." Malia shook her hand. "But I'm really good at keeping promises."

Erica reached out and let her hand fall into Malia's.

Malia drew her toward the window and looked down at Danny.

Now wearing his backpack again, Danny was searching the surrounding area nervously. He raised his arms and waved his hands. "It's okay. I'll catch you."

"One quick jump, that's all it is. In a few seconds, your feet will be on the ground and you'll be out of here. No more running or chasing or anything."

Erica looked back at her, frizzy blonde hair wisping against her cheek from the wind. "I'm scared."

"I know." Malia pressed a hand to her shoulder. "I'm not going to make you. But I think we both know this is the best option for getting out of here."

Chin quivering, Erica nodded. Closing her eyes, she twisted her mouth up into a grimace, and then stepped out the window. With a muted shriek, she jumped.

Danny caught her. They fell to the ground in a groaning heap, but they were okay.

Malia sighed, relieved.

Climbing back to his feet, Danny nodded. "Okay. Your turn."

Shaking her head, Malia said, "I can't."

Danny's brow furrowed. "What? Malia, I don't have it in me to give you a pep-talk right now!"

"Scott and Stiles are in the school. So is Allison…" She stared at him searchingly. She considered telling him about Jackson, but that would keep him here, and she needed them to get out and away. Maybe it was hypocritical of her, but she didn't care. "I have to find them."

"We can go for help." Danny shook his head. "But if you stay here…"

"You _can't_ stay!" Erica stared up at her, alarmed. "You promised."

"And I kept it. I got you out." Malia shrugged her bag off her shoulders. "Here. Take this. And take care of my Skittles, too. I'm coming back for those." She tossed her bag below, caught easily in Danny's hands. Serious once more, she said, "I have a plan, okay? It's not perfect, but I have to try."

Danny hesitated, but eventually nodded. "What do you want us to do?"

"What? _No!_ " Erica shook her head. "This is suicide!"

"Get Erica out of here. Find help, but stay away from the school. And Danny… don't come back here. Not until you're sure it's safe." She tapped her hand against her leg, feeling awkward and exposed. "I'll text you when I'm out."

"We can't leave you." Erica looked from her to Danny and back. "What if you get hurt? What if they _kill_ you?"

Malia stared at her but eventually looked at Danny. "Go. _Now_."

Danny hesitated, but eventually grabbed Erica's hand and towed her away.

"Wait! No!" Erica pulled at his hand, but she couldn't get loose. "Malia!"

Malia raised a finger to her lips in a silent reminder that Erica needed to be quiet so as not to draw attention to them.

Gritting her teeth, Erica nodded.

Pulling away from the window, Malia looked in either direction. Erica's bat lay on the floor. Plucking it up, she swung it around and continued down the hall. She needed to find the office and put her plan in play.

* * *

…

* * *

"She's not coming!" Jackson swiped at the blood still dribbling from his nose. "Don't you get it? Either she found a way out or she's _dead_. Either way, the longer we spend waiting on her to save us, the closer that psycho gets to killing us!"

Lydia's wild eyes bounced from Jackson to the others. "He's right. We don't know where Malia is or what her plan is… We don't even know if she's alive."

Allison turned to her, brow furrowed. " _Lydia_ …"

"I'm not saying I _want_ her to be dead, just that we need to be logical! We— We have to plan for the worst."

Picking at her bottom lip, Allison shook her head. "No. She wouldn't abandon us and… And she can't be dead. She _can't_."

"How much longer do we have to wait before you call your dad?" Jackson demanded, glaring at Stiles.

Stiles looked to Scott, his leg bouncing irritably. "Malia's not dead, all right? And if she says she has a plan—"

"But they have a point," Scott said.

Stiles turned to him, brow furrowed and mouth twisted. "What?"

"Not that Malia's dead. Or that she left us behind. She wouldn't do that. But we should have a plan, too. You said she was going to make a distraction for us to get out, right? Well, how are we going to do it? Do we go through the same door we came through? Should we start moving the tables and chairs, because... What if he's waiting just outside?"

Before Stiles could answer, the PA system came to life, and then—

A familiar guitar rift echoed through the room, so loud it made the speaker crackle.

"You gotta be kidding me…" Jackson muttered.

Stiles' face lit up and he swung is head around to see Scott, who was grinning back at him.

 _Living easy, living free_  
 _Season ticket on a one-way ride_  
 _Asking nothing, leave me be_  
 _Taking everything in my stride…_

Stiles snapped his fingers, nodding hurriedly. "The kitchen! The door out of the kitchen leads to the stairwell."

Scott frowned. "But that only goes up."

"Up is better than here. If we're lucky, Derek heads for the office to investigate the noise. We leave the chairs and the tables, at least we know he'll have a hard time getting through here to where we are. It slows him down, right? The only option is going up." He snapped the back of his hand into the palm of the other. "Look, we get up there and we find another stairwell, we come back down. Or we find a classroom without so many windows, and we hide. Either way, we get out of here."

They all looked around at each other uncertainly.

 _Don't need reason, don't need rhyme_  
 _Ain't nothing I would rather do_  
 _Going down, party time_  
 _My friends are gonna be there, too…_

"All right. Okay." Allison marched to the door. "He's right. Let's go!"

"O-okay." Surprised she was up for it, Stiles followed after her, lurching through the door as she swung it open.

One after the other, they rushed through the door and toward the stairs. Climbing them as quickly as they could, they reached the next floor, just as dark and empty as the others. Checking each door on either side of the hall, they found the first was locked, but the other wasn't. Pushing it open, they stumbled deeper into the room and abruptly closed the door behind them.

Taking a look around, Scott realized they were in the chemistry lab. Grabbing a chair, he brought it over and shoved it up against the door, locking it in place.

While they all stood, panting, Scott took Stiles by the shoulder and dragged him away from the others. "Text Malia, tell her where we are."

Nodding, Stiles pulled his phone out. "It was smart, right? The music?" He grinned. "Now the Alpha can't hear us— no heartbeats or footsteps. He'll have to rely on, I don't know, smell or something." He thumbed his phone open and brought up his texts, tapping on Malia's name.

"Yeah, really smart." Scott shook his head. "But now what?"

* * *

 _I'm on the highway to hell  
_ _On the highway to hell  
_ _Highway to hell  
_ _I'm on the highway to hell_

* * *

Leaving the PA system as loud as it could get, Malia abandoned the office and made her way toward the cafeteria. She kept close to the walls, ready to duck down and hide. Unfortunately, as much as the music was going to mask everyone from the Alpha, it also meant that it was covering any warning signs the Alpha might be giving off, too. Every time she hit a corner, she paused, unsure if it was hiding right around the bend. Her heart hammered unevenly, a lead weight in her stomach.

Just as she spotted the cafeteria, she felt her phone buzz against her hip. Ducking against a wall, beside a bank of lockers, she stuck the bat between her knees, and dug her phone out. There was a text from Stiles— ' _nice move with the music. we're in the chem lab. where are you?'_

Malia chewed her lip and started texting back. A few words in, however, she felt the hairs on her nape stand on end. That same feeling of tiny spiders feet she had at Allison's crawled across her skin. Malia hesitated only a second before raising her eyes from her phone. There, in the distance, she spotted the glow of red eyes. Swallowing tightly, she pushed off the wall, and _ran_. The bat dropped to the floor, abandoned, and she mentally cursed at leaving behind a weapon.

The music was so loud, it drowned out everything— her heart, her breathing, her slamming footsteps as she raced down the hallway. She swung around a corner, her shoes losing grip on the floor, and slammed shoulder-first into a locker. Breath briefly knocked out of her, she shook her head. Rolling off the lockers, she started running again, arms pumping at her sides. It was so dark, she had a hard time figuring out where the hell she was. If the cafeteria was behind her and to the right and the office was to the left, then—

Malia's feet slipped out from under her again, only this time she fell backwards, landing hard on her back. Planting her hands on either side of her, she tried to sit up, only to have them slide sideways. Malia turned over onto her stomach, looked ahead, and was surprised to see the Alpha wasn't just feet away, taking advantage of her misfortune. Instead, the hall was just as empty as ever, the rattling drum beat of AC/DC still echoing all around her.

Getting her knees under her, she tried to stand, but the floor was wet. Raising her hands, she looked at them, only to find them soaked in viscous blood. Slowly, Malia turned her head, and found the lifeless body of Trisha laying just feet away. Her mouth was open, face twisted up in ghoulish horror. There were slash marks all down the front of her body, her floral blouse shredded and soaked in a glaring crimson.

Malia closed her mouth around the strangled noise caught in her throat. Shaking her head, she started crawling across the floor, slipping and sliding in the puddle of blood all around her. She finally reached the lockers and had to wipe her hands on any dry patch of her shirt she could find before she could get a good grip on the metal to pull herself up. Pressing her back against the wall, she stared down at Trisha a long second, her heart climbing up into her throat. And then, she saw it—

Trisha's keys still hung from a lanyard around her neck. If Malia could get them, she could open classrooms and hallways. She might be able to find another way out. Slowly, she crept out, checking down the hall once more for the Alpha, but it wasn't there. Malia didn't have time to wonder why, to question where it was or when it would appear. She needed to get those keys and then she needed to get the hell out of there.

Making her way around the blood, she reached the other side of the hall. She slid her feet along the edges, right up against the lockers, and made her way closer to the body. When she was in reaching distance, she crouched down and stretched her arm out, hooking a finger around the lanyard and tugging it up. It caught on Trisha's chin. The movement caused Trisha's head to turn in her direction, her empty eyes burning a judgemental hole through Malia. Swallowing down the bile burning her throat, she kept tugging, until the lanyard moved up and over Trisha's head. Closing her hand around the keys, Malia pulled them close and stood.

Malia stumbled away from the body then and turned down the hall.

* * *

 _If you want blood, you got it_  
 _Blood on the streets_  
 _Blood on the rocks_  
 _Blood in the gutter_  
 _Every last drop_  
 _You want blood_  
 _You got it_  
 _Yes you have_

* * *

"She's not answering." Stiles paced and scratched at his temple. "She started to, but…"

Scott took a deep breath and looked at Jackson. "How many people can you fit in your car?"

Jackson shrugged. "Five, if someone squeezes on someone's lap."

"Five?" Allison scoffed. " _I_ barely fit in the back."

Jackson rolled his eyes.

Scott rubbed his hands over his face. "Okay. Look, the doors are blocked, right?" He pointed to the door next to the chalk board. "But if we get to the roof, we can go down the fire escape to the parking lot in seconds."

Stiles shook his head. "That's a deadbolt."

"There are two people in the school with keys. The librarian and the custodian."

"Well, we know where the custodian is..."

"And Malia knows where the librarian is." Scott nodded. "If I find her, I can grab the keys, then we all get out together."

Stiles glanced at the others and then pulled Scott away from the group. "How the hell are you supposed to find her? She's not answering texts and the music is so loud, you won't be able to hear her moving around."

"I can do it by scent." Scott's brows arched. "She smells like wildflowers. I can find her. I know I can!"

"Yeah, and what if the Alpha finds you first? Or us? Or _her?"_ Stiles shook his head. "Anyway, if you're going after Malia, I'm coming with you. She's my best friend, too."

"What? _No_. You need to stay here, with them. I'll be faster on my own and… you're the only other one that knows what's really going on." He looked past him, to the others. "You need to keep them from trying to get out on their own."

"Scott…" Stiles put his hands on his hips and dropped his head with a sigh. "You don't know what you're doing. You don't know how to fight this thing. You can barely control the shift!"

"I'm getting better and… I _have_ to do this." He swallowed tightly. "Stiles, this is Malia. If she's not answering, it's because she's in danger. I _need_ to find her." Not bothering to hear anymore arguments, he stepped past him and announced to the others, "I'm going to find Malia and the keys. I'll come back and we'll go to the roof."

Allison shook her head. "Are you serious?"

"Getting the key is our best plan," he reassured. "If we try to go down, he can find us."

"How do we know you'll even come back?" Jackson scoffed. "Who says he won't find Tate and sneak out, leaving us all behind to rot?"

Scott frowned. "I wouldn't do that. We'll come back for you."

Allison took a deep breath and crossed her arms. "You can't go out there unarmed."

Looking past her, he spotted a long, metal pointer stick. Grabbing it, he held it up. While everyone rolled their eyes, completely unimpressed, he shrugged. "It's better than nothing."

"There's gotta be something else," Stiles said.

"There is." Lydia perked up and nodded toward the locked cabinet behind Allison.

Stiles' face twisted up. "What are we gonna do? Throw _acid_ on him?"

" _No_. Like a fire bomb." She waved toward the bottles. "In there is everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail."

"Self-igniting…"

"Molotov cocktail," she enunciated. When they all stared at her, she shrugged. "What? I read it somewhere."

"Okay. But, we don't have a key for _that_ either."

With an exasperated sigh, Jackson shook his head, and then shoved his elbow through the cabinet window, officially opening it for business.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia couldn't find her phone. She must've dropped it when she was running. Which meant she had a set of keys, no phone, and no idea where the chem lab was. Shaking her head, she realized the only option was to backtrack, find her phone, and text Stiles. So, that was what she did. Covered in the librarian's blood, she made her way back toward the body. Did she drop it by Trisha or when she slammed into the locker? Either way, she had to go back toward where she'd last seen the Alpha. Was it still there? Or had it chased down her friends despite her distraction? Was he the only one left?

Her hands shook and her knees trembled. Every step seemed slower than the last, a weight drawing her back. Fear clawed its way up her throat, _choking_ her. Two bodies. That made the overall death toll four, with a potential for six more. That had to be a Beacon Hills record, right? It would just barely outdo the Hale fire victims.

Pressing herself up against a wall, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe. Reaching up, she covered her ears, trying to block out the pounding rock n' roll music. Breathing in and out through her nose, she tried to slow her heart down, and focus. Malia thought of her mother.

 _Watching Malia carry the flour bag up her step ladder, Evelyn shook her head. "I think you've got more flour on you than we'll be putting in the bowl…" When Malia stuck her tongue out at her, Evelyn tapped her nose, smiling when she scrunched it up. "Are you going to be my sous-chef today?"_

 _"No, I'm gonna be your Malia-chef."_

 _Evelyn's grin widened. "Malia-chef it is. All right, what else do we need? Do you remember?"_

 _Her eyes lit up. "Eggs!" Climbing down the step ladder, Malia rushed to the fridge and swung the door open. She reached down and pulled out a whole flat of two dozen eggs._

 _"Be careful," Evelyn said, watching as Malia held it with both arms and slowly climbed up the stairs to the counter. "Okay. First, before we get ahead of ourselves…" She finger-combed Malia's hair back and pulled an elastic off her wrist, tying Malia's hair in a ponytail. "We've got flour and eggs, what else?"_

 _"Music!"_

 _"Music? I don't know… What kind of music goes with pancakes?"_

 _Malia bounced where she stood. "Mac!"_

 _"Mac. Oh, now I know I raised you right._ Mwah!" _She stuck a loud kiss on Malia's forehead, to which Malia giggled. Evelyn made her way to the stereo. When her favorite song started playing, she turned on her heel and danced her way back to her daughter. When she was just in reach, Malia leapt from the top of her step-ladder and a knowing Evelyn caught her. Hitching Malia on her hip, Evelyn danced around the kitchen, singing loud and proud, swinging Malia around to the beat as they went._

Malia's lips moved along to the lyrics as her eyes slowly opened. "… _she rules her life like a fine skylark and when the sky is starless…"_

Drawing a deep breath, she let it out slowly. She felt calm. She felt _ready_. Just as she pushed off the wall, the music above cut out. As terrifying as it was to suddenly find herself in a completely silent hallway, this was good.

Because now she knew where the Alpha was— the office.

Smirking, she turned on her heel and raced down the hallway. It might not give her a lot of time, but it was some, and she was going to use it. When she reached the blood drenched hallway and the unmoving body of Trisha, she searched the floor, but there was nothing to be found. Muttering under her breath, she continued down the hall. And then she saw it, there on the floor, right under the corner locker— her phone.

Malia covered the last bit of space at a jog. She grabbed her phone up and thumbed through Stiles' texts.

 _—_ ' _where are you? why'd you stop writing?'_

 _—'malia, answer me. please!'_

 _—'are you okay? damn it, talk to me!'_

 _—'look scott's coming for you okay? we need keys to get onto the roof. we'll climb down the fire escape!'_

 _—'malia i'm freaking out! tell me you're okay!'_

A bubble formed then, with yet another incoming text— ' _i can't lose you'_

Malia felt her heart shift and thud in her chest. —' _i'm here. i'm okay_.'

 _—'prove it.'_

Snorting, she tapped out a reply and quickly looked around to make sure she was still alone. _—'technically green but given the situation, also red…'_

Stiles was quick to respond. _—'jesus christ! where were you? no wait nevermind. where are you now? scott's looking for you.'_

She frowned. _—'where?'_

Stiles sent back an eyeroll emoji. _—'he was going to sniff you out apparently. if he can't find you, he'll grab the keys off the janitor… or his body anyway. last place i saw him, he was in the locker room._ '

Malia nodded. —' _i'll head there, just in case'_

Her phone buzzed a beat later _—'okay but keep me updated. all right? both of you are out there and i'm stuck in here and i'm freaking out!_ "

She thumbed back a heart and ghost emoji. _—_ ' _i will. see you soon!_ '

Tucking her phone away, she took a quick look around the corner and started to move. She needed to get to the locker room which was past the broken window and back on the main floor. Sighing, she nodded, psyched herself up, and started running.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Scott's senses were overwhelmed. As much as he tried to search out Malia's scent, there was too much fear and anxiety on the air, too much blood and death. But he did know where the janitor was, which meant that he could at least find the keys. And hopefully her on the way.

The quickest way to the locker room was through the gymnasium instead of around it. As soon as he entered, however, he smelled it. The blood was stronger here; _concentrated_. The Alpha must've moved the body. Now all he had to do was focus on that one scent and follow it.

Moving back toward the door, his gaze searched beneath the stairs. They were pulled out from the wall, a web of criss-crossing metal columns and steel rods beneath. It was there. Hidden somewhere beneath, there was a body. And he needed to get to it.

A creeping sensation of warning climbed his back, telling him to stop, go back. But he had to do this. They _needed_ those keys.

Scott made his way inside, met with a maze of metal. His gaze bounced from the floor to ahead, searching for any sign of the body. The further in he got, the more intense the feeling of being in danger became. He could feel it weighing down on his shoulders. His hand flexed against the beaker he was holding, filled with Lydia's homemade Molotov cocktail mixture.

As he stepped over a bend, he heard a noise behind him, an ominous creak. Looking back, Scott saw nothing but a single bulb against the wall, sending out a bluish glow that did little to combat the crowding shadows. Continuing forward, his gaze bounced around. The smell was stronger, but there was nothing on the ground. And then—

Something wet dripped onto his face. Scott went still. Slowly, he tilted his head upward, until he was met with the body of the janitor, strung across the metal bars. His heart jumped, but he closed his mouth on a scream. Shaking his head, he focused. Putting the beaker on the ground, he made his way to one of the poles and climbed it, reaching out across the body for the keys that dangled from the janitor's pocket, only to fall just short. Scott gritted his teeth and stretched his arm as far as it would go. Just as his fingers brushed against the keys, there was a noise— _Clang_! A pitiful warning before he realized that the stairs were moving. No. _Closing_ _!_

Eyes wide, he looked from the rolling, retracting stairs, and back to the keys. He stretched and reached and finally caught them. Dropping to the ground, he grabbed the beaker, and then raced through the moving, bending metal columns, leaping out the end and rolling across the floor just as they slammed completely closed, the janitor's body still caught in a web of screeching steel.

Landing in a crouch, Scott looked up, heart still slamming against his chest. On the other side of the gym stood Alpha, growling and snarling. He prowled toward Scott, snapping his teeth.

Scott stood, his breathing unsteady. Bouncing back and forth on his heels, he nodded. "Come on… Come get me."

In answer, the Alpha broke out into a run.

Scott lobbed the beaker at him. It slammed into the Alpha's shoulder, shattered, and… _nothing_. It didn't ignite.

It startled the Alpha into pausing, but that was it.

 _Shit_.

Shaking it off, the Alpha lunged forward.

"Damn it." Scott turned to run, but the Alpha swiped at his ankle and knocked him clear off his feet. Scott landed face down on the ground and was flipped onto his back before being thrown away. Scott went sliding across the floor. When he stopped, the Alpha was on top of him, a rough hand pressed against Scott's face, clawed thumb digging into his cheek as he was pinned down. The Alpha lowered its head, growling in Scott's face as he panted, his whole body shaking with fear.

The gymnasium door swung open then, squealing before it slammed against the wall. Scott's golden eyes turned toward it, only to see—

 _Malia_.

A mixture of shock, elation, and fear ran through him. Before any could full be realized however, he noticed something. She was drenched in blood. It wet her clothes and matted her hair and soaked her hands. She stood wide-eyed, staring at him, and all he could think was that she was hurt. That it was _her_ blood. The idea, the mere thought, shook him to his core.

When Derek had first brought up the idea of a 'primal rage,' Scott hadn't been sure what it meant. He'd been angry in his life—at his dad, himself, his friends, and lately, at Derek and the Alpha for twisting his life up as much as they had. But the anger of before was different to what he was feeling in this moment. Looking at Malia, seeing the abject terror on her face, the blood that was covering her, he felt something inside of himself _snap_. Maybe it was a culmination of everything, but for Scott, it was a defining moment. He could feel himself shift— from the extra hair to the claws, the teeth, and the eyes. But more than that, he felt completely aware. It wasn't a sea of red like it had been before. He was himself. And he was pissed.

Scott brought his legs up, planted his feet against the Alpha's chest, and _kicked_. As the Alpha stumbled back, Scott got his feet under him and went on the offensive. This time, he wasn't running. He was fighting.

Rolling his shoulders, Scott bared his teeth and lunged. He brought his arms down, one by one, slashing and scoring, leaving five jagged lines with each swipe. They split open the Alpha's chest, leaving gory, gushing marks in their wake. The Alpha attacked back, but with his size, it made him just clumsy enough for Scott to duck and roll, swinging himself around to attack from behind. He leapt in the air and kicked out with both feet, slamming them into the Alpha's back to send him tumbling forward. Backflipping, Scott landed back on his feet, one fist planted on the floor.

Landing on all fours, the Alpha turned himself around to face Scott once more. Blowing out a growling breath, he ran forward, making the floor tremble under him. He opened his mouth, ready and eager to sink his teeth into his beta.

Scott remembered that feeling all too well— jagged teeth tearing into his side before he was whipped around like a chew toy and spat out on the forest floor.

 _Not again_.

When the Alpha was close enough, Scott leapt forward, flipping up and over the Alpha's head. He landed on the Alpha's back and dug his claws in, tearing upward. The Alpha howled and reared back, throwing Scott off him. Tumbling to the floor, Scott was quick to get up, but the Alpha had already turned around.

" _Scott!_ " Malia yelled.

A hand wrapped around Scott's neck and lifted him up. Facing away from the Alpha, he could do little more than kick his legs and claw at the hand that restrained him. Until suddenly, he was released, falling to the ground in a heap before a foot pinned him to the floor. He couldn't see what was happening, and that might've been the most unnerving part of it all. He couldn't anticipate an attack or even try to fend it off. He was simply stuck, face down with his cheek pressed to the cold gymnasium floor. He planted his hands down and tried to push up, tried to break free, but he was trapped.

"Malia!" He struggled to catch his breath, his chest aching with each inhale. Gasping, he yelled, " _Run!_ "

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia felt like she was standing outside of her body. Everything around her was slow, fuzzy, and muted. Sound was dull. Her heart was simultaneously beating too fast and too slow. Her vision narrowed down to one thing. One person.

 _Scott_.

He laid on the floor of the gymnasium, stuck beneath the Alpha, who had turned to look in her direction. The Alpha tipped its head left and right, and then snapped its teeth at her. A warning? A challenge? Just as she was sure it was going to attack her, it didn't. Instead, it reared its arm back and brought it down, slashing Scott across the back.

Malia flinched. Blood sprayed across the floor and Scott's head reared back, his mouth falling open in a soundless wail.

The Alpha swung again and _again_.

Malia was shaking. She could feel her mouth moving, forming a word, over and over—

 _STOP! STOP! STOP!_

But she couldn't hear it. She couldn't hear her voice or Scott's screams.

Her fingers dug into her hair and scraped at her scalp. She stood, helpless, as Scott struggled to crawl away, to avoid each attack.

And then… something changed.

Sound began to leak into her ears. Only it wasn't her voice or the Alpha's snarling growl. Instead… it was a heartbeat. Not hers; it couldn't be. Because it was slower than her own, which was slamming against her chest at an impossible rate. Malia stared at Scott, his shirt torn open, back shredded, blood _everywhere_ , and she felt…

 _Rage_.

Like never before, she felt the cold, hard edge of anger ripple through her. Followed by the kind of grief she'd only ever felt once in her life. When a police officer knocked on her door and told her that her mother and her sister were gone, and they were never coming back. She stared at Scott, his face growing slack, his body limp, arms falling loose at his sides, and then to the Alpha. A hulking beast that had done nothing but cause pain. Who had killed and maimed and terrorized everyone it came across.

And it was trying to take Scott, too.

Scott, one of the kindest people she'd ever known. Her _best_ friend. Her first love. Her _only_ love. The boy who moved heaven and earth to get her to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Who was always there, through every up and down. Who brought her Cherry Garcia ice cream every time she was sick. Who held her hand when she was scared and hugged her when she was sad. Who would risk his life for just about anybody, whether they deserved it or not. Who loved her on her worst days and her good days and every day in between. Who never deserved any of this. Not one bit. And she couldn't let it happen. She couldn't lose him.

 _She wouldn't_.

There was a tearing sensation. It started at the nape of her neck and traveled down her entire body, spreading across her arms and her legs. It was _agonizing_. She felt it spread, flaring across her skin, wrapping itself around her limbs, climbing her neck and her face. She screamed— it ripped from her throat and echoed all around her. Her teeth elongated, scraping and tearing at her lips. Fire lit her eyes and a burning filled her fingertips. Her bones cracked and moved; her skin rippled and stretched— she was transformed.

A red haze covered her gaze. The scent of blood reached her nose and her mouth _watered_.

When she stepped forward, it wasn't on feet, but paws.

There was no Malia here. Perhaps somewhere, muted in the back of her mind, the girl lived. But here, now, there was only the animal.

Lips drawn back from her teeth, she snarled. Dipping her head low, she stared up at the Alpha. A body lay on the ground, torn and bloody. Her teeth ached to sink into it and piece it apart. _Foodfoodfood._ But another part, deep in her hind brain, screamed _MINE_ for very different reasons.

She did not like this Alpha. This was her territory and he was encroaching. She could not allow it. She would not. Leaping forward, she stalked toward him, every muscle in her body tensed. The fur along her spine bristled and her tail swung side to side. As saliva dripped from her mouth, she lurched forward, snapping at the Alpha.

 _Fight. Wound. Kill._

The Alpha moved back, watching her. Not afraid. She didn't smell fear. But he kept his distance. Backing away, circling the bleeding body. Until he planted his feet and leaned forward, roaring at her.

The sound was deafening. It sent her ears back against her head, blew the bristly fur around her face, and rattled her down to her bones. For a moment, things were uneven. Her mind sunk sideways, lost to her. A demand for obedience. _NoNoNo_. She was not his to order, to _control_.

She was no wolf.

It could have been seconds or minutes, she wasn't sure. But suddenly, she was whole again. He would not sway her. He was not her Alpha. Shaking her head, she stepped forward, and licked her teeth.

The Boy could not fight the call of his Alpha, though. He cried out, his back arched, body twisting and turning.

He was alive. Under the Alpha's thrall, but alive all the same. She felt satisfaction over that.

But the Alpha had to go.

He couldn't stay here.

Her land. Her home. Her boy.

 _Defend. Defend. DEFEND!_

She took a running leap at the Alpha, planting her paws on his chest and sinking her teeth deep into his shoulder. The Alpha howled. His hand sunk down and gripped her at the scuff of her neck, trying to tear her off. But she only bit harder, _deeper_. His blood filled her mouth and leaked out the sides, drenching her teeth and muzzle. Growling, she dug her paws down and clawed at his chest. Skin split with each swipe, but it wouldn't be enough. Instinctively, she knew she was only wounding, and temporarily at that.

Claws sunk into her ribs then and she yelped. Her teeth released from the Alpha's shoulder and he took his chance. Tearing her away, he threw her across the gymnasium. She hit the ground hard, bouncing and rolling before eventually skidding to a halt against the wall.

The Boy was up. Yellow eyes, claws, and fangs. She smelled hunger on him. _Bloodlust_.

She cut her attention from The Boy to the Alpha, and made a choice.

She would kill him.

She would rip his throat out with her teeth if she had to.

Standing, she shook off the pain in her chest, blood leaking down her side.

There was only one thought. One mission. One focus.

 _Kill_.

KILLKILLKILL.

As she ran forward, the Alpha turned and fled.

And she chased.

* * *

...

* * *

He could smell them. They reeked of fear, a pungent scent that stung his nostrils and thrilled his nerves. It would be so easy. _So easy_. To sink his claws into them, to piece apart the skin from their bones. To tear them limb from limb. _Take his time. Savor it_. And he wanted to. In the dead, red haze that swallowed his mind, that was the only thing he wanted. The only thing his Alpha asked of him. Kill them. Kill them all.

As he walked down the hallway to the chemistry lab, his claws dragged along the lockers, leaving thin, jagged lines behind in the metal.

Jackson was sweating; panic, fear, paranoia. It came off of him in waves.

Lydia's fear was different. It tasted sweet on his tongue. He wanted to bury his nose in her soft red hair as he chewed through her neck.

Allison's tears left a salty scent in the air. He could already hear her weepy screams as she fell under each swing of his claws.

And Stiles…

 _Stiles_.

He blinked.

Stiles with a too big suit on, who visited his mother's grave every year, bringing her favorite flowers.

Stiles who didn't grow into his ears until eighth grade.

Stiles who loved Star Wars and was always looking for a reason to break out his Yoda impression.

Stiles who had been his best friend since forever.

He stood outside the classroom door now, his chest heaving with each breath.

Kill them.

 _Kill them_.

Obey the Alpha.

Obey.

 _OBEY._

No.

"I'm done waiting. I'm not going to stick around in this room so some psycho killer can come and kill me," Jackson snapped.

"You're not leaving. None of you are, okay? Scott and Malia will come back. I know they will!" Stiles exclaimed. "Newsflash, all right, they're my best friends. They'll come for me."

The key was in the lock, but his fingers shook with hesitation… with loyalty.

Heart pounding in his chest, his hand balled into a fist, he fought against the instinct, against the _order_.

And he thought of Malia. He thought of all of them. Him, Stiles, Malia, laughing in a bowling alley with the bumpers up and the laser lights flashing in their eyes. He thought of them in his living room, sprawled out on the couch, watching movies and eating junk food. He thought of the summers spent down at the lake, with Malia doing back flips from the rope that hung from the tree. Of Sunday's video game marathons with Stiles.

With every memory, his heart slowed down. The red haze in his eyes faded. And control slowly returned. At least enough for him to snap the key off in the lock, protecting them for the very real threat that he posed.

* * *

…

* * *

The Alpha was fast, but she was faster. She could feel it in her bones. She would catch him and he would die. She would tear him limb from limb and feed on the remains. He would not return here, not to her land or her boy. To her home. But just as she reached him, nipping at his very heels, something else caught her ears. She slowed, turning her head this way and that. A voice. _Two_ voices.

"Malia said not to come back."

"I'm not leaving her!"

She stilled, her had swinging back toward the Alpha as he raced toward the cover of the trees. A part of her wanted to follow, but another pulled her away. She sniffed at the air. _Familiar_. She knew these scents. But how? Why?

She loped back the way she came, following the scent. There was a car. A tall boy stood next to an open door while a girl stood in front of it, her arms crossed. Frizzy yellow hair whipped around in a cool breeze.

"Erica..." The boy walked toward her. "I don't know what's going on in there, but we called the police. They'll be here any second."

"And I'll be right here, waiting for them to bring her out."

She stared at the girl. There was fear there. Yellow Girl reeked of it. It flowed from her in potent waves. But there was something else, too. A defiance in the tilt of her chin. She liked that.

"Then I will, too," Tall Boy said, coming to stand with her at the front of the car. He held a chain, gripped tight in his fist.

This was not _her_ boy, but it was, too. Not hers, but Lia's. Her boy and her girl. There were others too, other humans that she called her own. She would keep them safe, she decided. She would hunt the Alpha to protect them.

Turning back to the woods, she took off at a run. The Alpha's scent would lead her to him. He could not hide for long.

She dove into the trees, chasing the bloody and dangerous scent of her prey. He was angry. He smelled like blood, ash, and death. Revenge simmered inside him. It would be his fatal mistake. She would be smart and fast and trick him. She would—

 _Blood_.

She slowed, her ear perked and her nose twitching.

A distraction, that was all it was. She should keep going, keep following. Only...

She knew this smell. Beyond the blood. There was something familiar.

Lia was a whisper in her mind, a strange and scared plea. Lia wanted loose, but the animal was not done. She had things to do. Things to hunt and fight and _eat_.

She followed the blood. Not because her stomach rumbled with hunger, though it did.

Not because her teeth ached to sink into soft flesh, though they did.

Not because she was easily distracted, though she could be.

No, she followed the scent because it was one of hers.

One of Lia's people, but one of hers, too.

A boy. A man. A wolf.

He sat, propped up against a log, lets stretched out in front him, his chest heaving with each breath. Blood wet his chin, but even more pooled behind him. He was wounded, but alive.

She approached slowly, her head down, eyes darting for any signs another predator was near. Sniffing at his boot, she followed his leg, nudged his stomach with her snout, and then met his face. He stared back at her, eyes at half-mast, skin pasty and damp. His eyes flared, lit a bright blue. Her own answered; she could see their yellow reflection in his eyes.

A slow smile upturned one side of his mouth. "Took you long enough."

She cocked her head at him. His words made no sense to her. Her attention fell once more to the blood still dripping down his back.

The Wolf-Man winced. "I'm okay."

She raised her head and huffed at him, snapping her teeth so he knew she thought different.

He grimaced. "I will be. I just need to get somewhere safe."

 _Safe_.

Safe was home. Home for her was not a place but a person. Two people. Her boy and another boy. She had too many boys, but these two were special. She should go to them. The Alpha might return, and she needed to protect them.

But this wolf was hers, too. Special in a different way. She could not abandon him to death. Even if eating him might sate the hunger that still gnawed at her stomach. No, she would help him live and find food elsewhere. He was very lucky that she liked him.

Nudging his arm with her head, she turned herself around and sat, waiting for him to take the hint. With a grunt and a groan, Wolf-Man pushed himself up and wrapped his arms around her chest, resting much of his upper body weight against her. He was lucky that she was so strong, otherwise she would have no choice but to let him die... and then eat him. Instead, she started walking, making her way out of the woods and back to the school. Even with her strength, however, the haul was heavy and her body was much smaller than his. Her muscles strained and her back ached.

In the distance, she could hear sirens and knew that time was running out. Picking up her pace, she hurried the last little bit to his car. She was out of breath and her legs shook beneath her. The wound in her side had not yet healed and now that the adrenaline of her fight was wearing off, the pain intensified. Once Wolf-Man had dragged his tired and bleeding body up into his car, she turned back to the woods.

"Wait!"

She swung her head back, peering at him. Hadn't she done enough for this wolf?

"You can't hide. I know... I know that seems hypocritical coming from me. But you have to... you need to shift back..." He stared at her searchingly, sickly in appearance.

Why should she take advice from one that stunk of death? He was not as strong as her. Not as fast, either. He might as well be a hare, pretty to look at but useless in a fight. Anyway, he was wrong. She didn't need to turn back. Lia was safe like this. She would kill the Alpha for Lia and her boy and then she would live safe and free in the trees. They would be her woods. She would make a home there and the boy could visit sometimes. There would be no pain anymore. No fear, no anger, no nothing. Just food and home and safety.

"It's no way to live."

She stared at him, the broken and bleeding Wolf-Man. He pulled his door closed, turned the ignition, and drove off into the night. The sirens were growing louder. She could see the red and blue lights coming, too. If she listened closely, she could hear their heartbeats. Her people. All six of them. And a seventh that she would save under extreme duress. Though, she would also eat him if she was starving, too... Maybe even when she wasn't starving. He was boney though, not the best for eating.

Making her way to the treeline, she stayed close, watching and waiting. When they were out, when she was sure they were safe, she would go. The Sheriff's car and a cruiser pulled up. Her tail wagged in acknowledgement. She knew the Sheriff. He was good. ( _She would_ not _eat him_ ). Two more deputies left the cruiser. ( _She_ might _eat them_ ).

It took time. She was not patient. Many times, she considered running ahead to see her people. But that would spook the humans, and they had guns. So, she would wait. Laying down flat, stomach resting on the damp leaves, she watched, head perched on her paws. Her side throbbed, wound still weeping. And then—

Her ears perked as the front doors to the school swung open. Two deputies were escorting three of her people. The Boney One came first. Tall. Skinny. Big mouth. ( _Maybe eat)_. He was followed by the shrill one with the green hair. Small. Smart. Talked too much. ( _Should not eat… Probably will not eat)._ Just behind them was The Soft Girl, arms hugged tight around herself. Warm. Kind. ( _Must protect. Do not eat!_ ).

The deputies hustled them away from the school and toward an incoming ambulance, its siren loud and grating on her ears.

She waited, staring at the doors for her boys.

She saw the others, instead. The Yellow Girl wove around the police cars and made her way to the front of the building. She paced and chewed at her lip. Scared. Young. ( _Protect!_ ). The Tall Boy waited with her, arms crossed over his chest. Strong. Smart. ( _Not food)._

"Danny?"

Brow furrowed, The Tall Boy turned. "Jackson?"

The Boney Boy left The Green Girl and The Soft Girl and crossed the parking lot at a fast clip, stopping just short of Tall Boy. "What're you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Boney Boy snorted. "Long story."

"Yeah, same." The Tall Boy half-smiled. "You were inside?"

Boney Boy nodded. "You?"

"Yeah. But, uh, I got out." Tall Boy waved around. "I called the cops. They didn't want to believe me, but… I finally got through to the Sheriff."

The sound of the front door opening caught her attention then. Perking up, she watched the Sheriff exit, followed by her boys.

Her brother— Awkward. Sharp. ( _Never eat; sometimes feed_ )

And her boy— Good. Warm. Hers. _Lia's_. ( _Always protect_ )

Certain now that they were okay, she lifted herself up, her legs shaking as her side throbbed. She turned back to the woods. The Alpha would be too far now, but she would find him again. These were her woods now, her territory, and she would defend it.

In the recesses of her mind, Lia cried out, clawing to be let free. She went unanswered.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

"I don't want to pop the champagne just yet, but… we survived." Stiles shook his head, his eyes wide in obvious surprise. "To be honest, I wasn't completely sure we would."

"Yeah, well, don't start celebrating yet…" Scott tugged at the lacrosse jersey he was wearing. It was the only thing he had at school that was wearable. If he walked out to meet the cops in a bloody, torn up jersey, he'd have to explain why he wasn't wounded.

"Course not. I'll wait 'til Malia catches up." Stiles tapped his phone against his hand. "Where is she? Did you find her?"

Scott ground his teeth together. "She found me."

"What? When?" Stiles looked back at the school. "Is she still inside?"

"I don't know."

Stiles blinked. "Okay, I'm going to need a lot more info…"

Scott sighed, but before he could say anything more, he spotted Deaton sitting in the back of an ambulance, wrapped in an emergency blanket. Scott hurried toward him, his brow furrowed.

Deaton looked up and smiled. "There you are."

"How…?" Scott wondered. "How did you…?"

"Get out?" Deaton shook his head. "Not easily. And from what they tell me, I'm alive because of you. I think I owe you a raise." He grinned and laughed lightly.

But Scott didn't have it in him to laugh. Not for the first time that night, he wondered just how well he truly knew Deaton, and if Derek hadn't been right all along…

"Guys, come on." Sheriff Stilinski tugged Stiles away, leading Scott to follow. "Let's let the EMT's do their job. You can talk to him later."

"Scott?" Allison approached, her eyes red-rimmed.

He looked up. "Allison, hey…" He glanced at Stiles, who could only shrug awkwardly. Taking her elbow, he led her away so they could speak privately. "I, uh, I'm sorry. I guess I didn't get back before the police got here."

Allison shook her head. "Never mind that. Where's Malia?"

He licked his lips and sighed. "I don't know."

" _What?_ " Her brow furrowed. "But… But she's okay, right? I mean…" She swallowed tightly. "I don't know what the hell is going on or what happened in there, but I need to know that my friend isn't dead somewhere. So, can you _please_ just tell me that?"

Scott clenched his teeth. "I'm sorry. I… I couldn't find her. Stiles and I will find her. I'm sure she's just hiding somewhere until she knows everything's safe. I'll make sure she calls you." He reached out to rub her arm comfortingly, but she shrugged him off.

Allison scrubbed at her eyes irritably. "Look, uh… Tonight was crazy in the _worst_ way possible. I have no idea what is going on and the police are being weird and quiet and I just feel like this has been one huge nightmare. And I want to go with you, to find her, I really do. But I'm still freaking out and my dad is on his way and I just… I don't know how to feel. Because I'm scared and confused and angry and…" She shook her head. "I think, what I'm trying to say is that tonight really put some things into perspective for me and I know this is the worst possible time to be saying this, but…" Taking a deep breath, she shook her. "This whole friends with benefits thing, it's not going to work. Not because I don't like you, I do. But I realized that when we were stuck in that classroom and there was a possible serial killer walking around, waiting to _actually_ kill us, the only person you were worried about, the only one you wanted to get to, was Malia." She held her hands up. "And I'm not blaming you, I'm not even mad at you, because you were honest with me when I asked. I just, I really think that if you care about someone so much that you're willing to maybe even die just to get to them that maybe you shouldn't be seeing someone else. Maybe you should just _tell_ her."

" _Allison!"_

Scott looked past her to see her dad climbing out of his car, his face screwed up with worry.

Allison sighed and swiped at eyes. "I'm not mad, okay? Or maybe I am, I can't really tell." She laughed thickly. "Just… Just find Malia, please, and tell her that I… I _really_ need her to be okay and… And yeah, get her to call me." She started backing up then, staring at him searchingly. "And take my advice, Scott. Because I really think you're just avoiding the obvious at this point and if tonight's shown us anything it's that life is really _fucking_ short."

Scott stared at her, dumbfounded. It wasn't until she walked right into her father's arms and hugged him, burying her face against his chest, that Scott looked away. Turning on his heel, he made his way back to Stiles.

"What was that?"

Scott shrugged. "I think she just broke up with me."

"Uh… didn't she already do that?"

"Yeah, but this time felt more permanent." He shook his head. "Look, what I was trying to say before is that we need to go."

"Go? Go where?"

Scott swallowed tightly. "It's a long story, but Malia found me in the gym with the Alpha and… he attacked me. The thing is, I don't think he was trying to kill me. Don't get me wrong, it hurt, a _lot_."

"Is that why you're wearing your lacrosse jersey?"

"Yeah. He slashed up my back pretty good."

Stiles' brows hiked. "And he _wasn't_ trying to kill you?"

"No. I think…" Scott frowned. "I think he was trying to trigger Malia."

"What?" Stiles snorted. "Why the hell would he…?" He paused and blinked. "In the chem lab, when the Alpha howled, Jackson freaked out. He was screaming and gripping his neck. He had claw marks there, I saw them."

"Stiles… Malia shifted."

Stiles' eyes widened. " _What?_ "

"Yeah, and I don't just mean like me. I mean like she _fully_ shifted." He nodded. "You remember when we found Derek's sister's body, how it looked like a wolf at first?"

"Malia shifted into a wolf!?"

Scott waved at him to quiet down and quickly checked that nobody had heard them. The police were busy canvassing the area; Jackson and Lydia were huddled near her car; and Danny and a blonde girl Scott didn't recognize were talking near the school. Deciding everybody was preoccupied and hadn't overheard, he returned his attention to Stiles. "No. I'm pretty sure she turned into a coyote."

Stiles made a strangled noise. "Why? _How?_ "

"I have no idea. But we _need_ to find her. She literally fought the Alpha off and then… I think she chased him out of the school."

He threw his hands up. "She _fought_ the Alpha?"

Scott sighed, exasperated. "Yes, all right? Did you not hear the part where they ran off together?"

"Together, or like he ran away scared of a little coyote?"

"I don't know. It looked that way." Scott's brow furrowed and his mouth turned down. "I think she was trying to protect me."

Stiles snorted and shook his head. He reached out and slapped a hand against Scott's chest. "All right. Let's go. Let's find her."

Scott nodded, but then asked the obvious question, "How?"

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Just follow the wildflowers."

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **songs** :

Don't Stop – Fleetwood Mac  
Highway to Hell – AC/DC  
If You Want Blood – AC/DC  
Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac

* * *

 **author's note** : _i'm so ridiculously excited to share this chapter with you. for the absolute longest time, i had a vision in my head of when malia would finally shift. i had to be extra careful whenever i mentioned it to anybody who asked because i didn't want to tip you guys off, lest you figure out the exact chapter and that would kind of ruin the surprise. i think a lot of you were hoping for a declaration of feelings, so i'm sorry that didn't happen. i will say that it's definitely coming. i just had a very specific idea in mind that involved malia's shift predicating on scott being attacked by the alpha. now, in canon, scott is pinned down and then the alpha roars to turn him and sends him off to kill the rest of his 'pack.' instead, i wanted scott to realize that him controlling his shift could come from a need to protect. not just malia, but there's deaton and stiles, too. and then he tries to fight, but as good as he does, there's also the fact that he's still getting used to these abilities and reflexes and one little slip up is all it takes. this in turn leads to the alpha pinning him again. i've said in previous reviews with people that the alpha definitely noticed something different in malia, and this is proof of that. he uses scott to force her shift and then attempts to enthrall her with his alpha roar. she eventually shakes this off, which will be explained more later on._

 _ALSO, because i'm expecting someone to ask, lydia's described as the green one because coyote's can't distinguish red from green, i guess they're semi color blind. so she thinks lydia has green hair, lol._

 _i hadn't originally planned to dig so deeply into the werecoyote's conscious, but i think you can tell i had a lot of fun with it. i like to think that the more malia gains control, she'll be able to meld with that animal personality, which is really a part of her already. but as it is now, the coyote is in control and she's stuck in the backseat, desperately trying to get out. it's going to be a real roller coaster of emotion next chapter!_

 _anyway, i really hope this lived up to everyone's expectation. i feel like i hyped it up a lot, so i'm really hoping nobody's disappointed!_

 _and finally, i will be replying to comments over the next two days. i considered doing it earlier, but all of my free time has been spent writing this and editing it and i really wanted to get it up tonight. sorry again for the wait!_

 **things to look forward to next chapter** : _scott and stiles hunt for malia; danny, erica, and allison are very concerned; scott attempts to sing; malia struggles._ :(

 _thanks for reading, please leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	20. interlude 1

**word count** : 16,045  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : between 1x07 and 1x08

* * *

 **XX**

Stiles drummed his hands against the steering wheel. "Okay, where would Malia go... She's a coyote, she's freaking out, she just kicked an Alpha's ass..."

"She might _still_ be fighting the Alpha. Or he could've hurt her." Scott blew out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. "She wounded him pretty good, bit right into his shoulder, but he threw her off like she was nothing. She's strong and she's dangerous, but Derek said Alpha's were the strongest of our kind..." Scott sunk down in his seat and rubbed his hands over his face. "She could be out there, right now, hurt or dying, and I—"

"Hey, hey, hey. Don't jump to conclusions, all right? This is Malia. She was fast as a human, she's probably even faster as a coyote. If she was really in danger, she could run."

"But, would she?" Scott's brow furrowed. "When I first turned, I— It was like I became someone else. Something just took over and they were in control of my thoughts and what I was doing. Maybe it isn't Malia that's doing this, not totally. Maybe it's the coyote."

"Okay… Then, what would a coyote do?"

He sighed. "I don't know!" His gaze bounced around thoughtfully. "Coyotes are territorial. She could've chased the Alpha off because he was encroaching on her territory."

"Would the territory be the school or you?"

Scott sent him a flat look. "She would go home, to somewhere safe that she could defend and... make a den."

"A _den?"_

"That's what coyotes live in. Look, we should head to her house."

"Her house... where her dad lives... who she's currently having problems with." Stiles squinted at him. "That house?"

Scott nodded. "It can't hurt to check. If she's not there, we'll start canvassing the woods."

"Canvass— Scott, there's two of us, okay? And only one of us has the super sniffer."

"Then we stick together and I try to catch her scent. But first, we need to go to her house. Even if she's not there, we need to get clothes for her." He grimaced at the lacrosse bag at his feet. After changing out of his torn and bloody shirt, he'd gone back to the gym to collect her clothes too, both of which were tucked away in his bag. Along with her phone and her necklace, the chain of which was broken. "When she shifted, hers kind of, uh, fell apart."

Stiles blinked. "Wait, so when she shifts back..."

"We should probably bring a blanket."

Brows hiked, Stiles nodded. "O-kay."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

The Tate house was eerily dark. Henry's truck was missing, and it seemed as if shadows had clung to every corner and crevice the house had to offer. Given the chaos of the night, Malia's house looked more like a set-up for a second climax to a horror movie. Scott unclipped his belt and reached for the door.

"Wait." Stiles reached out, a hand planted against Scott's chest to keep him still. "How do we know she won't attack us?"

"We don't."

"Okay, and how are we going to get her to shift back?"

"No idea."

Stiles frowned. "Do you have _any_ idea what you're doing?"

Scott looked away. "My best?"

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, "Oh my God…"

"Stiles, we can't prepare for this. We just have to do it. Malia needs us."

"And I need three naps and a hug."

Shrugging, Scott held his arms out, but Stiles batted them away.

"Not from you."

Rolling his eyes, Scott half-smiled. "Look, we'll get her back. I know we will. And then she can hug you."

"That'd be preferable." Stiles pulled his own seatbelt off. "All right, let's do this."

Pushing his door open, Scott hopped out. He tilted his head and sniffed at the air. He could smell a camp fire burning in the distance, the damp earth, various animals, Stiles' cologne mixed with Axe body-spray, and... the faint aroma of wildflowers. She'd been and gone, he realized. But that was good. It meant she'd been here. That she survived what happened at the school and she was on the move. Now he just had to figure out where her next stop would be.

Stiles was already on the porch. He dug his keys out and flipped through them until he found one for Malia's.

"Did she give you that?" Scott wondered.

"Yes. Unlike you, who I had to copy a key from."

Scott's brow furrowed.

"What? It's for emergencies." He swung the door open and smirked. "Like right now."

The inside of the house was just as dark as it looked on the outside. Scott could smell the old and bitter odor of empty beer cans. Wiping his shoes off, he walked inside, closing the door behind him. He flipped the lights on and blinked at the sudden brightness. Giving his head a shake, he crossed the living room and made his way down the hall. There were family pictures on the walls, following Malia across the years, though they seemed to taper off when she hit ten. There were also spaces where pictures had clearly been removed, their absence all too obvious.

Scott let himself into Malia's bedroom, Stiles right behind him. He flipped the light on and was briefly startled when Shiloh perked up on the bed. Her tail wagged as soon as she saw who it was and she rolled onto her back, her paws up as she stared at them expectantly.

With a snort, Stiles walked over to her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed while he rubbed his hand over her chest. "Hey, girl... Any chance you've seen a familiar coyote around here?"

"She was here. I could smell her outside." Scott went to Malia's dresser and dug around for a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt; loose clothes that wouldn't feel too constricting. "It was old, though. She went somewhere else." He pulled open the top drawer, grabbed a pair of socks and then, sightlessly, grabbed out some underwear and balled it up with her pajamas. It felt weird and invasive to be going through her personal things.

"So, where would she go next? What else would count as her territory?"

"I mean..." Scott shrugged. "She runs through the preserve. She could consider the whole thing hers..."

"What about your place?"

Scott frowned. "What do you mean?'

"I mean, she hangs out there a lot, and lately she's been sleeping over. Maybe she considers that her home, too."

"She stays at your place, too," he muttered defensively.

"So, if yours is a bust, we'll try mine." Stiles shrugged. Giving Shiloh one last pat, he stood. "You think we should bring her?"

"Who? Shiloh?" Scott's brows hiked. "You think that would help?"

"Depends. You think dogs and coyotes get along?"

"They have so far..."

Stiles scrubbed his fingers over his head. "But if we bring her and she rejects Malia, that might be worse... Okay, we don't bring her, just in case. But, while we're here, we should feed her. And maybe let her out to pee." Stiles threw his hand up abruptly. "Shotty not taking her out."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Come on, Shiloh." He whistled as he made his way to the door. "Let's go to the bathroom, come on."

Shiloh rolled herself over and carefully climbed off the bed. She avoided using her fractured leg as much as she could as she trailed after Scott down the hallway. He let her out into the yard and stepped onto the porch to keep an eye on her while Stiles rummaged around inside, searching for dog food. Shiloh sniffed at the ground excitedly before taking off around the side of the house.

"Hey..." Scott followed after her, circling the porch and watching.

Shiloh loped across an overgrown part of the yard that had once been the garden. He remembered Malia telling him about it, and about her lack of green thumb. An old swing hung from a tree, the ropes frayed with age and disuse. Shiloh barked, pawing at the ground and sniffing at the roots of the tree. Frowning, Scott hopped off the porch and walked to her.

"What's wrong? Huh?" The closer he got, however, the more he smelled it. Someone had marked the tree, and he knew who.

A rattling noise caught his ear then and he turned to see Stiles holding up a bag of dog food. "Found it!"

"Hey, I think Malia's marking her territory," he called back.

"What...? Wait, are you saying she's out here _peeing_ on things?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah. And I think we can use it to find her."

Stiles pulled a face. "You're going to follow her _pee_ trail?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

Stiles paused. "Not really. Just wanted to make it totally clear how weirdly close you guys are."

Rolling his eyes, Scott looked down at Shiloh and then nodded. "Good job, girl."

Shiloh sat down and stared up at him cheerfully, her tongue lolling from her mouth. She looked rather proud of herself.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"For the record, this is weird." Stiles carried a flashlight in one hand and a bat in the other as they trudged through the dark woods. "And I still think we could've taken my jeep."

"I can smell better this way. It's not mixed with exhaust fumes." Scott sniffed aggressively, turning his head this way and that. The stronger the smell was, the closer they were. He was trying to follow the exact territorial line she was making. "Coyotes actually mark with urine and scat. But the scat is only for really special places, like their dens. It shows other coyotes that they're willing to defend that area more than others."

"When you say scat...?"

Scott looked back at him knowingly.

" _Ew_."

Scott snorted. "There's probably some back at the house and I just didn't pick up on it."

"Yeah, because it's mixed with Shiloh's lawn bombs." Stiles took a quick look around. "You know the Alpha could be out here, right?"

"If he is, I can't smell him."

"Yeah, well, maybe Malia's _markings_ are so strong they're drowning out everything else."

"Maybe." Scott frowned. "But I think the Alpha already proved his point."

"Yeah, and what is that?"

"I don't think the Alpha attacked us to kill us. _Any_ of us. I think it was trying to send me a message."

"Which is...?"

"That I'm it's beta and I needed to start acting like one." He sighed. "It wants me in it's pack and it's tired of waiting. And I think it's way of making that happen was to get me to kill my old pack."

"What do you mean? Old pack?"

"Allison, Jackson, Lydia... _You_."

Stiles' eyes widened in realization. "The Alpha doesn't wanna kill us."

"It wants me to do it. And that's not even the worst part."

Stiles pulled a face and waved a hand around. "How in holy hell is that not the worst part, Scott?"

"Because when he made me be shift, I _wanted_ to do it. I wanted to kill you. All of you..."

"What stopped you?"

"You did."

Stiles brow furrowed. "What?"

"I heard you voice and... I remembered that you're my best friend. It triggered all these memories of me and you and Malia and that... It stopped me. It— it gave me the control that I needed to walk away."

Stiles nodded. "Wow."

"Yeah." Scott glanced at him. "But I don't think that's all the Alpha wanted."

"Okay... What else is there?"

"Malia." Scott turned to look at him. "When it howled, you said Jackson felt it. He didn't shift, but it affected him."

"Right."

"He had claw marks, which means that someone did that. Maybe it was the Alpha or maybe it was Derek, I don't know. But he was marked and he still reacted to the Alpha... What if Malia's the same?"

Stiles brow furrowed. "What, like any shifter will still react to an Alpha?"

"If the Alpha is strong enough, sure. I don't think Jackson is one, not yet. But something must've happened. And Malia..." Scott shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe the Alpha did bite her at the video store and we're only just seeing it."

"But wouldn't she turn into a wolf?"

"I don't know." Scott groaned. "Derek would know. H-He'd have the answers to all this."

"Okay, so let's just say your theory is right," Stiles suggested. "The Alpha howled at Malia to, what, bring her into the pack, too?"

"I think so. I think he was trying to."

"But it didn't work."

"No. I was a little preoccupied with my own shift, which hurt like hell, by the way. But... I remember her attacking him. If she was his beta, she wouldn't... She _couldn't_ do that, not after he demanded obedience. That pull is too strong."

"So, the Alpha isn't _her_ Alpha... But then, who is?"

Scott shook his head. "I have no idea."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Not that I don't appreciate the hard work you're putting into chasing down Malia by her, uh, _leavings_. But I kind of feel like we're walking in circles." Stiles twirled around, squinting into the woods with a frown, the beam of his flashlight bouncing all around. "Or maybe all these trees just look the same, I don't know."

"No, you're right. She's marked what she wanted to, but… I can still smell her." Before Stiles could say anything, "I mean wildflowers."

"Right, sure." Stiles put a hand on his hip. "Well, which way'd she go?"

Scott took a deep breath and then closed his eyes. The problem with his advanced hearing was that he could hear too much. Every rustle of a tree branch, wind chimes rattling, the wind whistling, animal feet skittering, birds wings flapping. He needed to narrow it down, to fine tune it. _Concentrate_. He could hear Stiles' heartbeat and his own and…

And Malia's heartbeat was distinct.

What if it was the same even when she was a coyote?

 _Anchor_. He needed to anchor himself and then he could direct his senses.

He thought of just that morning, in the muted light coming through the window. He'd woken with his nose buried in her hair, his chest pressed to her back, an arm stretched across her. The warmth of her body had sunk into his; he wanted to stay exactly where he was and soak it in. He could feel it the moment she woke up, too. The way her body tensed just a little, coming alive. And her voice, thick and raspy with sleep. When she'd turned onto her back, her arm brushing his chest, and looked up at him from beneath long lashes, he felt his heart thump and shift. She was so beautiful. She always was, but there was something intimate and personal about having her there, so close to him. Something freeing about seeing her when she first woke up and there were no defenses. Her smile was slow and her face was soft. Scott couldn't begin to count the amount of times he'd wished he could kiss her, but in that moment, it felt like he already had. Like he was seeing into a future where she loved him too and they'd skipped the awkward uncertainty of a friendship becoming more and settled themselves into the comfort of each other.

 _Thump, thump, thump_.

Scott opened his eyes; everything around him was sharper, in more detail. Surrounding sound was muted, distant, but her heartbeat was so clear. He turned himself around to face it and started walking, ducking under a low hanging branch and climbing over a fallen log.

"Scott… Hey! Scotty, wait up. Where are you going?"

"I can hear her." Was he yelling? He felt like he was. But Stiles' voice sounded like it was coming through a wall. Scott crossed a creek, hopping over a few rocks to reach the other side. He climbed a hill, dirt and rocks sliding under each step. He grabbed onto a branch to haul himself up and then reached back, hooking his hand around Stiles' and pulling him and over.

"Wait, I know where are…" Stiles nodded and stepped forward, mouth twisted up in a grimace. "Malia makes me go the long way so she doesn't have to pass it."

Realization hit Scott like a brick. "The accident…" He picked up his pace, but just as he reached the edge of the trees, he paused. "Wait. I smell blood."

Stiles turned to him. "What? Like, hers or…? You think she attacked someone?" His brows hiked hopefully. "Maybe she took out the Alpha!"

Scott frowned. "Maybe."

"Nothing to do but find out." Stiles started forward, but Scott grabbed onto his arm.

"Be careful. She's not thinking straight."

"I'm not gonna spook a coyote, okay? I think I've got a little more control than tha—" Stiles broke off in a startled shout when he turned around and walked face-first into a branch. Batting it away, he leapt back and spat out a leaf that was stuck to his mouth. "Okay, all right. I'm good."

Scott stared at him drolly.

Stiles shrugged. "Starting now. I will be completely calm starting right _now_."

Rolling his eyes, Scott walked past him.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

The ground smelled wrong. New grass had grown. Flowers filled in the areas that should be blackened with death. But the soil was rich and the earth had healed. She didn't like it. She wanted it to look like it did that first time Lia had visited. Tire marks on the road and the torn up grass. A broken fence and the skeleton of a tree, half of it lost to the accident, splintered wood hauled away. The smell of gasoline had still stung Lia's nose, pieces of twisted metal caught in shredded grass and clumps of dirt. And a road sign, bent sideways, like an arm that had snapped in the wrong direction. There were no bodies. Her mother and sister had long been packed away in bags and carried off to the morgue. But the ghosts of them lingered even now.

She laid in the grass, too green for her liking, and curled up as close as she could. Her side was still bleeding, refusing to heal. It was Lia's fault, she decided. Lia, who wouldn't stop clawing at her mind, desperate to get out. Didn't she understand? She was trying to keep her safe. To guard her against the pain and the hurt and the loneliness. That was why she came here, to remind Lia of why she was needed. Lia hated this place. She could feel it rattle her. Hear her desperate please of ' _no-no-no'_ echo in her mind. But that was good. A scared Lia needed protection.

She wasn't expecting it to look like this, though. With a new sign and a fixed fence and a stump where the shattered tree once stood. It was all new and fresh. The acrid scent of death had long left. It wasn't _fair_. It deserved to wear the mark of loss forever. Blood soaked earth, littered with the remains of a car that couldn't save its precious cargo.

Her ears perked when she heard something. Footsteps coming her way. She was outside of her territory now, but not by much. Lifting her head, she sniffed at the air. _Familiar_. Turning onto her stomach, she pushed herself up. Her legs wobbled and her ribs hurt. Lowering her head, she cast her gaze across the long grass, and growled. It crawled up from her belly and ripped from her throat, a low and angry rumble.

The grass parted and there stood—

Her boys.

She tipped her head and eyed them.

They smelled nervous and were moving slow. _Hesitating_.

They should.

The woods were dangerous and the Alpha was still free. Stupid boys! Didn't they understand how much trouble they were in?

She snapped her teeth at them.

Her brother flinched and pulled his arms back, eyeing her uncertainly.

But her boy, he held his hands out. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay…" His voice was low, quiet, and soothing.

She shook her head. No, she was mad at him. At _them_. This was her job. She was hunting the Alpha, not them. Beginning to pace, she swished her tail irritably.

"Malia… You're safe. It's just us. You know who we are."

Of course she did. That was why she was mad. This was her territory to protect. Her _people_ to protect. But here they were, tramping through the woods, _defenseless_. Humans were so pathetic. Better for eating than protecting. If it wasn't for Lia, she might take a bite out of them right now. Show them just how weak they were. The Alpha would destroy them, pull them apart as easy as she would a hare. Stupid boys. Stupid Lia for caring about them. Hadn't she learned yet? They all died. They all left her. Like her mom and her sister, these two would bleed into the earth, and new grass would grow, hiding it all away.

Her boy knelt down, arms resting on his legs as he stared at her searchingly. "I know you're scared. I was, too. I still am. But… you can't stay like this. You have to come back."

She huffed at him and bared her teeth. _No_. He was wrong. She _could_ stay like this. She _would_. The trees would be her home. She would make a den and live there. But she would visit. Her tree with her swing. The dog and her father. Her brother and her boy. Only when she killed the Alpha, when her home was safe, then she would see them. Not now. Not here. They would only make her weak. Too soft, too warm. She had to be strong. She had to do this alone.

"Lia, I know you're in there. I know you can hear me."

 _Scott?_

She stopped and tipped her head.

 _Scott!_

Lia. Lia had heard him. And she wanted out. Lia clawed at the recesses of her mind with new fervor— screaming and rioting for freedom.

Snarling, she shook her head. No! It wasn't safe. She had to stay. She had to hide!

"You threw flowers at my head the first time we met, you remember that? You whipped 'em right at my face and told me to go away." Her brother was kneeling too, staring at her searchingly. "And I didn't. I didn't leave you then because I knew… Malia, I knew that you were going to be important to me." Licking his lips, he shook his head. "You're my best friend, all right? And as much as it sucks, it was losing people we loved, people we _needed_ , that brought us together."

She looked back at him. The salty scent of his tears made her nose twitch. She didn't like it. Didn't like how his words made her stomach hurt.

"I know why you came back here. I know that you're just trying to find something familiar, something to hold onto, something you can use to keep fighting. But I also know that you already have that."

 _Stiles! Help me. Stiles, please! Let me out. Let me OUT!_

"You have me, okay? I- I might not be a werewolf or a- a coyote, but… I'm gonna be there, every day. We can get through this. We— We can figure out how and why and… And it doesn't change anything, all right? You're still you. You're still exactly who you've always been."

Scott nodded and looked back at her with a faint smile. "You were always strong and smart and capable. If anybody can handle this, it's you."

She stared at them, these boys that Lia would die and kill for. These boys that made promises. _Scott and Stiles_. Flesh and bone, human and wolf, weak and scared, but also… Strong. Smart. Warm and funny and kind and loving. _Gentle_.

The grass didn't grow until they came. Healing didn't come until they made her laugh. Trust was built on the prickly back of her sorrow and grief, carving out a new path, a new hope. When Lia had been lost, they'd found her, and so they did again.

 _I'm scared. Please. I don't want to be scared anymore._

She walked toward them, gaze darting from one to the other. Scott stretched a hand out toward her. The tips of his fingers brushed the top of her nose and along her snout. They climbed the hill of her face and between her ears.

"Hey…" he murmured. "I've got you."

The shift felt slow and fast at the same time. It didn't hurt like it had when she'd become the animal, but it did feel like coming up from water. Like she'd been drowning and now she was free. Malia gasped in a shaky breath, wide eyes darting around in confusion. Where was she? What happened?

"Lia… Hey, look at me." Scott's hands cupped her face and her hands rose, wrapping around his wrists tightly. "You're okay."

"Scott?" Her brow furrowed. "What happened? Where am I?" A trembling sob climbed her throat. " _What_ am I?"

"You're you." His thumbs rubbed away the tears that fell then, rubbing at her cheeks. "You haven't changed, okay? Not really."

But she had. She _did_. She could still feel the confines of her mind closing in around her, the bloody haze that had covered her vision, the animal that had taken over. And it wasn't… It wasn't clear. There were pieces missing. Her memory was fractured and confusing. But she knew. She knew she'd gone somewhere, _trapped_.

Suddenly, a blanket was around her, and Stiles was pulling it closed around her neck before rubbing her shoulders. "There. You're okay. What's a little public nudity between friends, right?"

Malia's watery eyes moved between them and her chin quivered. "I don't… I don't understand."

Scott looked back at Stiles silently, and then turned back to her. "All that matters is that you're okay."

"Did I… _hurt_ anybody?" Her teeth clattered. "Is everyone okay? A-Allison and Lydia? I— I remember seeing Erica and Danny."

"They're all okay," Stiles told her. "We got out. We're okay."

Scott rubbed a hand down her hair and Malia leaned into it, her head falling into his palm. "We're gonna go home, okay? And we'll tell you everything we know."

Malia nodded, blinking quickly. She pulled her knees up, trying to stand, but her side hurt and her knees wobbled. "I c-can't."

"I've got you." Scott slipped an arm around her back and the other beneath her legs. He picked her up like it was nothing, cradling her against his chest.

Tired, Malia let her head fall against him and gripped the blanket tight around her. Her eyes fell to half-mast and she just tried to breathe. She knew where she was now, and she hated it. This was the crash site; the same one she'd visited shortly after finding out her mom and her sister were dead. She'd never returned to it again, and avoided it whenever possible. Why would she come here?

She could hear them talking, quiet whispers as they made their way through the woods. Malia drifted in and out, falling asleep but jarring back awake at a moment's notice. Her hearing came and went; sometimes it was so perfect, she swore she could hear a pine needle snap underfoot. Other times it felt like it was coming to her through a tunnel, a rush of distant noise. Everything was like that. She could smell Scott, but she could also smell a camp fire and the earth and incoming rain. The blanket around her was warm, but scratchy. Her entire body felt hypersensitive; the heat of Scott's body against her side, and his hands, soaking through the fabric. At the same time, her feet dangled, uncovered, and the cold breeze bit at her toes.

"…dad still isn't home. It's after midnight, where the hell is he?" Stiles' voice infiltrated her mind.

"Maybe that's good. He can't ask questions."

"Where are we taking her?"

"I don't know how Shiloh's going to react. Let's bring her back to my place. Your dad will ask questions, but my mom is probably sleeping by now. She worked a double."

"What if she isn't?"

"Then… I don't know. We'll tell her what happened at the school, as much as we can anyway."

"Yeah, and how are we going to explain Malia being naked?"

Scott sighed. "I don't know. We'll deal with it when we get there."

"He's right." Malia wiggled around and lifted her head. "I should change."

Scott paused his steps and looked down at her searchingly, his brow furrowed with worry. "Are you up for that?"

She nodded, even though the effort that took to do so felt exponential.

"Okay."

Scott climbed the porch then and Stiles was quick to get ahead and unlock the door. The living room was easy to cross, but it took some maneuvering to get her down the hall, with Scott walking sideways so her legs and head wouldn't knock into any walls. Eventually, they reached her room. Scott carried her to her bed and gently sat her down on the edge, taking hold of her shoulders to keep her upright.

"We brought you some clothes."

Stiles shrugged off his backpack and pulled out a bundle, dropping it on the bed beside her.

"Your phone is in my bag, in Stiles' jeep. I'll grab it for you." Scott backed away, pulling Stiles along with him. The door closed behind them, but was left open a crack.

Malia let the blanket fall from around her shoulders and reached for the clothes, unfolding them to see what was there. A t-shirt, some loose pants, socks, and underwear. She stared down at her hand, however. It was a rusty brown with dried blood. She swallowed tightly. Taking a deep breath, she pushed off the bed, swaying a little. It took a good thirty second, but her legs grew steady enough to move. She picked up her clothes and brought them with her to the bathroom. Placing them on the counter, she slowly raised her eyes and stared at her reflection. Bruises peppered her body. Her shoulder where she hit the locker, her side where the Alpha had stabbed her and then thrown her across the floor, her elbows and knees. Five deep slashes on her ribs were still bleeding; streams of blood made their way down her dirty skin. There were leaves in her hair and streaks of mud and blood covering whole patches of her skin. Blood had dried on her chin and she could still taste it in the crevices of her teeth.

Sniffling, she reached up and pulled whatever debris she could from the tangles of her hair. Picking up her brush, she worked out every knot until it looked halfway decent… halfway human. And then she moved to the bathtub and she turned on the water as hot as she could take it. Climbing in, she stood under the spray and let it wash away the evidence of what she was and what she'd done. Rusty water swirled around her feet as blood and dirt was stripped away. She scrubbed at her fingers, across her hands, and up her arms. She washed away Trisha and the Alpha and the stains they'd left on her. She washed away the tears that were still falling and the blood from the wound on her side.

When she closed her eyes, she saw fractions of memories. Chasing the Alpha, running through the woods, the swing in her backyard, the Hale house, her and Kylie's favorite tree. She could've been in the shower for minutes or hours, she wasn't sure. By the time she climbed out, she was simultaneously very awake and incredibly tired. Toweling herself off, she dug out the First Aid Kit that Melissa had insisted she keep, and dug out a bandage. While she had a pretty good idea that it would heal a lot quicker than it naturally should, this would at least keep it from bleeding through her clothes until then. She brushed her teeth then, scrubbing as hard as she could without splitting open her gums, trying to rid herself of any lingering blood.

Getting dressed, she took her towel back into her room and tossed it in the laundry basket. As she did, her door opened with a faint creak. Malia turned to see Shiloh peeking her head in.

Her heart leapt and she smiled. "Hey, girl."

Shiloh paused, cocked her head, and sniffed at her.

Worried that somehow her dog wouldn't recognize her, Malia got down on her knees and patted her hands against her thighs. "It's okay. Come see me."

Shiloh stepped closer, curious but careful, her body tensed and defensive.

Malia felt her heart lurch. "I won't hurt you. I would never…" Her breath caught. "I'm still me."

Shiloh's ears perked then and she quickened her steps. She crossed the distance between them and sniffed at Malia's face, licking at her cheeks.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Malia wrapped her arms around Shiloh and pressed her face down against her soft fur.

"Well, that's a good sign."

Malia looked up to find Stiles standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets.

"I, uh, I threw some mac n' cheese on for you. I thought you'd be hungry."

Sniffling, she nodded. "Yeah, I could eat."

"Cool, cool. Uh, I called my dad, told him I was staying over. He wasn't crazy about it, what with the whole serial killer aspect, but he's glad to hear you're okay, and he just wants me to check in every five minutes to prove I'm alive."

She snorted. "Sounds about right."

"We were gonna head back to Scott's, but with his mom, I figure…"

"It's easier here because my dad's not around." She nodded. "I get it."

Stiles stared down at her a beat before abruptly turning. He shifted the door closed behind him and then walked to her. Rubbing at his nose, he crouched down, taking a seat on the floor beside her. "You know this doesn't change anything, right?"

"I'm pretty sure it changes a lot." She turned watery eyes on him. "I'm different. You think I'd be used to that. 'Terrible Tate' was like a shitty warm-up to all this."

"I stuck with you through that alliteration nightmare and I'll stick with you through this." He shrugged. "It's just a little extra fur and a tail, right? So what?"

Malia chewed her lip. "I just… I have questions. I _know_ I didn't get bit in the video store. So how did this happen? I- I don't get it."

Stiles leaned over and bumped her shoulder. "We'll figure it out."

Sighing, she turned to look at him. "I don't remember everything. What if… What if I hurt someone?"

"I don't think you did. I think… From what Scott tells me, it sounds like you were just trying to protect him from the Alpha."

"Not just him." She frowned, her brow furrowed. "I… I was in its head. The animal's. And… it _cared_. It wanted to protect you. It— It calls you its brother."

Stiles' eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." She shook her head. "It wants to kill the Alpha and protect… I think it sees you as part of its pack."

"I'm honored," he joked.

"I know I'm missing something. I- I just wish I could remember all of it." She sighed. "Maybe Derek can help."

Stiles pushed up from the floor then and scrubbed a hand over his hair. "It's been a crazy night, so… I'm gonna get that mac n' cheese ready and then we can talk. Or sleep. Or watch a movie, I don't know. Whatever you want to do." He backed away, toward the door, and ducked through it.

Malia looked down at Shiloh, who had laid down, turning onto her back and resting her head in Malia's lap. Petting her chest, Malia flipped up one of Shiloh's paws and dropped a kiss on it.

It was a few minutes before she pulled herself up and off the floor and moved to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. Shiloh hopped up behind her and laid down, curling up into a ball.

Every time she thought she was coping with the night, it felt like a new flood of feelings took her in a different direction. She needed to check in on Erica and Danny and Allison. Just to hear from them directly that they were okay. As if in answer, a knock echoed from her door.

Clearing her throat, Malia said, "Come in."

The door opened slowly and Scott stepped inside, holding her phone up for her. He crossed the floor and held it out.

Taking it, Malia was suddenly overwhelmed with everything she could and couldn't say. They were her friends too, but they had no idea what was really going on and she couldn't share it with them. Not only would they probably think she was crazy but at least one of them came from a family of hunters.

"Are you okay?"

Malia looked up, staring at Scott's openly concerned expression. "No. Not really."

He searched her face a long moment and took a seat next to her. "The first time I turned, I… I was scared and confused. I felt like I was going to throw up, it hurt so much. But then you were there, you got me out of the party and back home and… you stayed with me. You got me to breathe through it and you just, you made me feel like no matter what happened, I was going to get through it."

"You jumped out a window and ran into the woods."

"After, yeah. When I realized Derek had confronted you, _scared_ you, and Stiles said he could be doing something to Allison. I felt like it was my fault. That I had to stop him." He shook his head. "Malia, you… You were my rock, every day. When I was freaking out and I just wanted things to go back to how they were; when I was scared that I would hurt someone; when I thought I was a monster…" He shifted in his seat so he could face her. "I'm still scared and I'm still learning and I don't know what comes next. I don't know what we do or who we become, but we can do it together. Because you make me strong. And I want to do that for you, too."

Malia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She reached out and slid her hand into his. His fingers parted and hers fell into the space between. "I'm scared," she whispered. "I couldn't get out. I felt like I was screaming and nobody could hear me."

Scott pulled her closer, he lifted his arm up and around her, their fingers still knit together. "I'll find you. And I'll bring you back."

She smiled, her mouth trembling, and dropped her head to rest on his shoulder. "You promise?"

He kissed the top of her head before resting his cheek against it. "Promise."

Closing her eyes, Malia let out a shaky breath.

 _She believed him._

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Stiles found them like that a few minutes later. He pointed a thumb behind him and then clapped his hands together. "Let's eat."

Standing, Scott pulled her up from the bed and down the hall to the kitchen. The three of them took a seat at her kitchen table, a pot of at least two boxes of Kraft mac n' cheese on the table with a large spoon, three bowls, and forks.

Malia slid into a seat and accepted the bowl that Stiles handed to her, filled to the top. She didn't realize quite how hungry she was until she was halfway through the bowl, her chin dressed in an unnaturally bright, orange hue.

"All right, calm down, you're gonna choke," Stiles warned. "Did you eat today?"

Malia nodded. "Danny took me out for dinner, but that was a while ago. And I've only had Skittles since."

"Skittles?" Stiles frowned. "Okay, not that mac n' cheese is exactly overflowing with nutrition, but still."

"They were a reward." She shrugged. "Right before we were trapped in the school, I was kicking ass at studying for that test."

"Hey, you think we'll still have school tomorrow?" Stiles looked from her to Scott. "I mean, the janitor's dead and the school's kind of a crime scene, so…"

"Probably not." Scott stirred his spoon around his barely touched food. "What'd your dad say?"

"They still can't find the janitor's body. There was a bunch of blood in the hallway though; they're looking into it."

Malia paused, her hand tightening around her spoon. "Trisha. The librarian. The Alpha killed her." She frowned. "Wait, there was no body?"

"No. Just the blood. That's the weird thing."

Malia sat back in her seat and looked between them. "Why would it take the bodies?"

"Can't charge anyone with murder without a body." Stiles shrugged. "Can't even really prove they're dead."

Malia sighed. "We'd have to know who the Alpha was to have them charged anyway."

Scott and Stiles exchanged a look.

"The evidence points toward Deaton." Stiles threw his hands up defensively. "Derek said he was hiding something and when Scott howled, Deaton was mysteriously missing from Derek's car before we were attacked by the Alpha. That's too coincidental."

"No." Scott shook his head. "I mean, I get why you think it's him, but… Deaton's whole career is about helping."

"Animals, _not_ people."

"Yeah, but… I just don't see it. I mean, he's a good person."

"When he's not a werewolf, sure. Maybe when he's triggered, something goes weird in his brain." Stiles' brows hiked. "Not that I think that'll happen to you two. I'm just saying, we don't know everything that's going on."

Malia yawned, her jaw cracking from just how wide she's opened it.

"It's late. We should get some sleep." Scott pushed his bowl away. "We can figure this stuff out tomorrow." Standing, Scott took the empty bowls to the sink to rinse them out, while Stiles grabbed up the pot and tossed out what little was left.

Malia rested her elbows on the table, perched her chin on her hands, and watched them. Words were crowding in her throat, uncomfortably sincere. Licking dry lips, she said, "Thank you… both of you… for finding me."

They went still, before slowly turning around to face her.

"You kidding? Like I was going to pass up a chance to see a werecoyote." Stiles' gaze bounced between them. "That's what we're calling it, right? I think it has a nice ring to it."

Scott rolled his eyes. "You don't have to thank us. You'd do the same thing."

Malia smiled faintly, but then her brow furrowed. "How did you find me?"

Stiles smirked. "Yeah, Scott, how did we find her?"

Scott sent him a flat look. "It's a long story."

"Is it?" Stiles teased.

"It doesn't matter how. Let's just be happy we did." Scott turned back to the dishes then, but Malia had a feeling Stiles would be spilling the beans as soon as he got a chance.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

The boys were sleeping on the floor. Malia pulled out the blow-up mattress and watched Stiles struggle to use the pump. It definitely took longer than it should have, but it was a bed. They threw some sheets on it, a pillow on either end, and shared a blanket. Shiloh had returned to her own bed in the corner of the room. With the door closed and Stiles' jeep parked a little deeper in the trees, Malia had some hope that even if her dad did come home, he wouldn't notice anybody was over. Then again, she had a feeling he wouldn't end up coming home. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, maybe it was good. As human as she looked, she clearly wasn't, and maybe having him around would only make that worse. There were so many mixed and hurt feelings around her dad, he was probably safer staying away from her. Another part of her, however, wished he was there. Wished he was the kind of person, the kind of father, that she could go to with something like this. That she could lay her fears out on the table and have him to tell her it was okay; she was going to be okay. But he wasn't, and he wouldn't.

Stiles was snoring. It was familiar enough that it was kind of comforting. That same nasally noise she heard every time they had a sleepover. That and the faint mumblings of whatever strange dream he was having, combined with the occasional grunt from Scott when Stiles inevitably kicked him in the face or shoulder.

They weren't far away— the blow-up mattress was right up against her bed. But she still felt lonely. Shifting herself to the edge of the bed, she turned onto her side and looked down at them. Stiles' head was at the other end, cheek down on the pillow, his mouth wide open. Scott was closer to her, one of his arms tucked behind his head. He was staring at the ceiling. She could see him almost perfectly, despite how dark it was in the room; every hill and valley of his face. His eyelashes, the shape of his nose, the shadow of stubble along his cheeks.

He reached a hand up to her; the backs of his fingers dragged along wrist and up, up, up, until they were brushing the stretch of her own fingers, folded over the edge of the mattress. He tucked his forefinger under hers and tugged. She lifted her hand and let him trace each of her fingers and along her palm. "At least we're not alone," he whispered. "We'll always have each other."

Malia stared down at him. This boy that she'd been trying so hard to protect since forever, but especially since finding out he had been turned into a werewolf. It had seemed surreal, what he was facing and what he'd become, but she'd done what she could to be there, to support him through it. Now that she was facing a similar situations, she didn't know how to feel. But, he was right. They could walk this path together. "I know why I turned. I mean, not why I'm a shifter, obviously, but I know what caused it to, uh… _trigger_ , I guess."

"Yeah?"

"It was you."

His brow furrowed and he stared up at her searchingly.

"When he was hurting you, when he had you pinned to the floor, I… I thought I was going to lose you and… I _couldn't_. But I was helpless, I was stuck there, I felt like I couldn't move, like I had no control over my body, and then… She took over."

"She?"

"The coyote." Malia shook her head. "It hurt. It felt like my skin was being torn open, but… Then she was there and she was in control and… It was like I was in the backseat, watching. I don't remember everything, but I know she was trying to protect you." _Hers. Her boy_ , that was what the coyote called him.

"She did a pretty great job." Scott half-smiled. "I know it seems scary now and it'll probably feel that way for a while, but… I think you're going to be amazing at it."

Malia hummed. "It doesn't feel like it."

"I know you. This is just one more part of you. It's just like when it happened to me. You told me I was the same, that I was exactly who I'd always been and nothing could take that away from me." He nodded. "You protect people, Malia. You, the coyote, it's the same."

"Maybe," she whispered.

Scott pushed his hand up until their palms met. "We'll find your anchor. It'll be different then."

Malia folded her fingers down over his hand and squeezed. "Will you tell me everything tomorrow? Everything that happened."

Scott nodded. "Everything."

Letting out a quiet breath, she settled her head down on her arm. "Don't let go."

"I won't."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

 _Blood spatter on her face. It dripped from her teeth and pooled in her mouth. It clung to her fur and drenched her hands. Every breath was wet and coppery. She was saturated with it._

 _Bathing in moonlight, dressed in blood._

 _Yellow eyes, red eyes, a wolf on the horizon._

 _An Alpha, howling at the moon, at her._

OBEY _._

 _No._

 _Nonono._

 _Her bones rattle and her lungs squeeze. Her skin splits and her nails grow._

 _Fangs tearing into skin, pawed feet digging through flesh and bone._

 _Five claws through her ribs; she yelps._

 _Thrown like a rag doll; she bounces when she hits the floor. Growls to hide a whimper._

ATTACK _._

 _Get up, get up._

 _There's no time for pain, no time to waste._

 _Kill the Alpha, save her boy._

 _Kill the Alpha._

 _Kill._

 _KILL._

 _Yellow Girl with her raised chin._

 _Tall Boy and his chain._

 _Soft Girl shaking so bad she can hear her teeth clattering._

 _Get the Alpha. Follow, trap, kill._

 _Defend!_

 _Defend your home._

 _Defend your pack._

 _Tear his spine out with your teeth._

 _Feed on the waste you make of him._

 _Torn skin and scored entrails._

 _Bathe in his blood. Roll in it until it coats your fur._

 _Dance in the misty blood that floats on the wind._

 _"Malia! Run!"_

 _The roar is deafening._

 _She likes it. A part of her wants to submit. Lay down her head and let the Alpha guide her._

NO _._

 _There is no wolf here. The coyote will follow no wolf. She is her own. She will make her own pack. Her and her boy._

 _And her brother._

 _And The Yellow Girl._

 _The Tall Boy._

 _The Soft Girl._

 _Mine. They are all mine._

 _"Took you look enough."_

 _Defend them. Protect them._

 _Blood in her mouth. Skin under nails._

 _An Alpha howls, but she can howl, too._

 _She will howl._

 _Louder._

 _Stronger._

 _Better._

 _Blood on her tongue. It coats her teeth._

 _She likes it._

* * *

 ** _…_**

* * *

Malia was screaming. Scott startled awake and sat up. Thrashing in bed, she was kicking her legs, her arms flying around. She whined, crying out, her eyes still closed.

Shoving the blanket off himself, he knelt on the air mattress and flipped her bedside lamp on.

A sleepy and confused Stiles was sitting up, too. "What the hell…?"

"She's having a nightmare." Climbing onto the bed, Scott struggled to catch Malia's flailing arms. Her claws were out and he couldn't help but worry she ight unintentionally hurt herself. His fingers folded around her wrists and tried to hold them down. "Malia! Hey, stop, it's us. Wake up!"

Her eyes opened and her brow furrowed. Her body was still wiggling all around, shoulders back and head darting back and forth. "It's in my mouth. It's in my mouth!"

"What is?"

" _Blood_. There's blood in my mouth."

"No, there isn't. Lia, it was a dream."

"I can't get out. I'm stuck. Let me out!" She tried to lift her legs, but when she couldn't, her whole torso lifted off the bed and she started fighting against Scott's grip, tears streaming down her face. "Let me out, let me out…"

"It's the blanket." Stiles worked at unraveling it from around her legs. "There, see. You're okay. You're free!"

Malia's eyes— a sharp yellow— darted around. "I'm not— I can't—"

"Look at me." Scott released one of her wrists and reached for her face, turning it so they were eye to eye. The length of her nose had flattened, blonde hair had sprung from her eyebrows, and her teeth had lengthened. "There's no blood. It's in your head. It was a bad dream. You're okay."

Her mouth trembled. "I… I can t-taste it."

"I'll get her some water." Stiles hopped off the bed and left the room, hurrying to the kitchen.

Scott wiped the tears from her cheeks. "You wanna sing the song, huh?"

She stared up at him searchingly.

"It's okay. I can start." He smiled softly. " _Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night, and wouldn't you love to love her? Takes to the sky like a bird in flight, and who will be her lover? All your life you've never seen a woman taken by the wind… Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win?"_

His voice was crackly and deep from sleep; it wasn't exactly his best singing. But Malia didn't seem to care. She just closed her eyes and breathed through her nose.

Scott's thumb rubbed a soft circle on her cheek. _"She is like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness… She rules her life like a fine skylark, and when the sky is starless…"_

He could hear her heartbeat slow down and her breathing even out the longer her sang. Her nails and teeth shortened and her face smoothed out. Slowly, she opened her eyes, now a familiar dark brown.

He half-smiled. "Okay?"

She nodded.

"Here." He helped her sit up and reached around for her pillows, stacking them behind her.

Stiles walked into the room then, glass of water in hand. He passed it to her and watched as she guzzled the whole thing down. "There you go. No more blood, right?"

Clutching the empty glass to her chest, she rubbed an arm over her face. "I- I'm sorry. I don't… It just felt so real."

Scott shook his head. "It's okay."

"Yeah, I think I'd be having nightmares, too." Stiles' eyebrows hiked. "I still might."

Malia chewed her lip and rubbed her fingers under her eyes. "Can you just…?" She tapped her fingers against the glass and closed her mouth around the words.

"You want us to stay up here?" Scott offered. "We can do that." He glanced at Stiles. "Right?"

"Oh yeah, totally. Might be a little cramped, but we can make it work."

Malia nodded. "Just for tonight."

Scott reached down and grabbed up the other blanket and the pillows from the blow-up mattress. He tossed Stiles his pillow and then spread the blanket out over her.

Malia shuffled down the bed until she was laying on her back, clutching at the top of the blanket.

Stiles crawled in on her left side while Scott laid on the right. He tucked his pillow under his head and wiggled around until he was comfortable. "Good?"

Malia nodded, a quick jerk of her head.

"You want the light on or off?" Scott wondered.

She bit her lip, hesitating, before saying, "Off."

Scott flipped it off and then laid down beside her once more. He was tired, but worried, and that kept him from closing his eyes. As time passed, he could feel her begin to relax. The tension slowly bled away and she turned soft beside him. He watched as Malia's hands slowly unfolded from the blanket and moved down. She found Stiles' hand first, gripped it tight, and then found Scott's. He listened to her heartbeat for any signs she was getting nervous again. But minutes went by and eventually, her eyes drifted closed and her grip on him loosened. Until, finally, she was asleep. Closing his own eyes, he let himself drift away, all the while waiting for so much as a twitch of her finger.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Come morning, Malia found herself still feeling emotionally exhausted. The sun crept in through the window and she could tell she wasn't the only one in bed, but one of them was missing. Hearing the familiar voices of the Belcher family, Malia realized Stiles was watching an episode of Bob's Burgers in the living room. Which meant the warmth besides her was—

"How're you feeling?" Scott's hand rubbed her shoulder and down her arm.

Turning her head, she looked back at him. "Kind of hoping everything I remember is just a really terrible dream."

He winced. "Nope."

"Yeah, I figured." Sighing, she turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling. "Derek said the only way someone can turn is by bite or birth. But I know— I _know_ the Alpha didn't bite me."

Scott hummed. "That only leaves one option."

Malia chewed her lip and turned to look at him. "It's not my dad. He couldn't hide that, could he?"

"What about your mom?"

Swallowing, she shook her head. "Maybe. What if she was and my dad didn't know? Because he'd tell me if he did, right? He'd warn me that something like this was going to happen."

"Maybe Derek's wrong. Maybe there's another way to turn."

"Like what?" She raised an eyebrow. "Spontaneous turning? Exposure to other werewolves? And if that's true, why aren't I a wolf?"

"I don't know." Scott frowned. "Derek told you a lot more about this stuff than he told me."

She frowned. "Then I have to talk to him. I need to know what he knows."

Scott looked away then. "Malia… Look, last night, something happened."

She went still then, her stomach bottoming out. "What?"

"After Derek accused Deaton of being the Alpha, I had to prove him wrong. That's why we were at the school. He was just going to keep hurting him if I didn't stop it. So, I… I howled. I wasn't sure how long it would take, but then… It was like Stiles said. Derek had Deaton in his car, but after I howled, when we got to the parking lot, he was _gone_. And then… the Alpha was there. And it— It attacked Derek."

"What?" Her brow furrowed. "What happened? Where is he?"

"He wasn't moving and there was so much blood. I… I thought he was dead."

" _Thought?"_

"I don't know. His car wasn't there when we got out, but… He _looked_ dead. And just… It was so confusing. Suddenly, Allison was there, and so was Lydia and Jackson, and they wanted to know what was going on, who we were running from. I couldn't tell them it was the Alpha."

Malia could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She sat up and stared down at him. "What did you do?"

"It was a mistake." He sat up with her, wincing. "I panicked! They just kept asking who it was and why they were trying to hurt us and I… I thought if Derek was dead then it wouldn't matter—"

"Even if he _was_ dead, that would be how people remembered him. As a _killer!_ "

"I know. I- I wasn't _thinking_ about that." He shook his head. "I just— I needed to give them an answer and… He was the first person I thought of."

"So, they think he's some kind of serial killer? The police, too?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah."

Groaning, Malia scrubbed her hands over her face and let out a hysterical laugh. "Why? Why would you do that to him?"

"It was a mistake. If I could take it back—"

"But you _can't_." Pushing off the bed, she rubbed a hand over her mouth and shook her head. "If he is dead… He didn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve to be remembered like that. I know you guys don't get along. I know he could be a dick to you. But, Scott…"

"It wasn't about that. I couldn't _think_ straight." His eyes widened. "I was scared and worried and I just said the first thing I could think of."

"If he's not dead, now he's going to have the police chasing him for something he didn't do." She started pacing. "We have to find him. I need to know."

"The car wasn't there. If he got out, then he's hiding somewhere, _healing_. And if he didn't…" He stared at her searchingly. "Malia, I'm sorry. I know you cared about him."

Hugging her arms around herself, she swallowed tightly. "He made a lot of mistakes. He should've talked to us more. But… He was scared too, I think. He doesn't get close to people, not after he lost his family. It was hard for him to trust us."

"Lia…" At some point, Scott had left the bed, and was standing in front of her. He reached out and uncrossed her arms, drawing her hands out for her to see. Her fingers were tipped with claws. As her heart jumped, he rubbed his thumbs over her hands. "It's okay. You can control it. Just breathe. Think— Think of your mom or Kylie. Think about something that makes you feel safe."

Malia stared down at her hands, her claws resting against Scott's all too vulnerable wrists. "But _I'm_ not safe. I'm dangerous. I— I turn into a _literal_ animal. I—"

"I'm not afraid of you." Scott's gaze was earnest. "I've got claws too, remember? There's almost nothing you could do that'll hurt me. Not really. Nothing I can't heal from."

"I'm mad. I'm _pissed_. At you and the Alpha and _myself_." Her breathing picked up. "I'm mad at Derek, because I cared about him. I trusted him. And he's not here. And I know that's not his fault. But I… I wish he was. Because I have questions. I have so many questions and I need him to answer them."

"I know."

"And I— I _hate_ the Alpha. For doing this to you and me and for Trisha…" Her voice quivered. "She's dead and I— I slipped in her blood and it was e-everywhere." Her eyes filled with tears. "And I can't get her face out of my head. I let her go. I knew the Alpha was in the school, but I let her walk away. I got her killed!"

"No. Malia, this isn't on you." He shook his head. "The Alpha did that. Not you."

"I didn't stop her." She sucked in a shaky breath. "And Erica. I- I invited her to the school. I wanted to help her. She was so scared after what happened at the video store. But I made it worse. I'm the reason she had to go through it again. If she didn't know me—"

"You got her out of the school. Her and Danny. You saved their lives." He tugged on her hands and drew her closer. "You saved us, too. Turning on the music to hide us, you did that. You thought of that."

"I couldn't save you in the gym. I just stood there. I was _stuck_."

"You _did_ save me. You shifted and you protected me." His hands skimmed up her forearms lightly. "It's okay to be mad. I screwed up. And it's okay to be scared. I am, too. But you can do this. I know you can."

"How?"

"Because." He raised her arms, where her hands were just as human as ever. "You're stronger than you think."

Malia let out a shaky sigh. Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around him and dropped her head down to his shoulder. "I'm still pissed about what you did."

"I know." His arms banded over her back, one hand curved around her shoulder. "I deserve it."

"And I want to find him. Even if…" She swallowed. "Even if he's dead. We need to find him."

"Okay." He nodded. "We will."

Turning her face down, she closed her eyes and breathed him in. "I feel weak and emotional and I don't like it."

"You're just overwhelmed." He reached a hand up and brushed it over her hair. "It takes some getting used to."

"I still want to know." She lifted her head then and turned to look at him. They were standing close enough that her nose nearly brushed his. "I want you to tell me what happened. After Derek, when you were in the school."

Scott nodded. "Okay."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Once she was filled in, she found herself feeling strangely empty and weighed down at the same time. "So, the Alpha wants you to kill everyone?"

"Except you," Stiles pointed out, before giving her a thumbs-up. "Congratulations on that."

She rolled her eyes. "What are we going to do?"

"At this point, I don't know." Scott shrugged, his shoulders hiked. "It kind of feels like we're just waiting for the Alpha to attack again."

"But that won't do anything." She frowned. "We need to be better next time. You fought it and you were good. You didn't win, but you were fast and I think you surprised it." Malia started pacing across her living room floor. "We need to train."

"Train?" Stiles' brows raised. "Train how?"

"We need to figure out how to use our abilities without second-guessing ourselves. So when it does attack, we can fight it off, and maybe win this time."

"When you say win…?"

Malia frowned. "Your dad can't exactly arrest an Alpha werewolf."

"Which means, what? That we kill it?" Stiles looked from her to Scott. "Are we prepared to do that?"

"No," Scott said. "And even if we could, is that really what we want to do?"

Malia pursed her lips. "What do you think Derek was going to do? Invite it out for dinner and arrange some kind of truce? The Alpha's killed four people."

Scott scrubbed a hand over his face. "Look, I agree with the training part. We should be able to defend ourselves, and the people we care about. But I don't know if I can kill it."

"Fine. Then we don't think about that part yet." She shook her head. "But we'll have to talk about it at some point. Because this thing is just going to keep killing people until it gets what it wants. And currently, it wants _you_."

Scott stared at her a long beat. "And you."

Malia flinched. Changing the subject, she said, "I need to shower and make a few phone calls. We should meet up later. We can start looking for Derek."

"Yeah, sure." Stiles stood from the couch and knocked his hand against Scott's shoulder. "Just, keep us updated, okay?"

She nodded. "I will."

Crossing the divide, Stiles reached for her, and pulled her into a hug. "Green?"

A smile pulled at her mouth. "Green."

Leaning back, he placed a hand on her head and shook it, grinning when she glared. "We'll be okay. All of us."

She really wanted to believe that and, for a second, she might have.

As Stiles stepped back and made his way to the door, Scott took his place. "If anything happens, you start feeling overwhelmed or scared or _anything_ …"

"I'll call you."

"And I'll be here as fast as I can."

She half-smiled. "I know."

They stood there, lingering for a long moment. Until, eventually, Scott stepped back. "Okay. I'll text you later to check in. We can make a plan."

Malia nodded.

As he turned and left for the door, she hugged her arms around herself. She flicked her hand up in a wave when he looked back, closing the door behind him.

Alone, she let out a sigh. She could hear their footsteps crossing the dirt driveway to the jeep.

"You think she's okay?" Stiles wondered.

"No," Scott admitted. "But, she will be."

Closing her eyes, she nodded.

 _She would be okay._

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Erica looked up as the bell rang above the door. She leaned out of her seat and stretched to see who it was. On the table was a mug of tea, her hands cupped tight around it. When he reached the table, she blew out a sigh. "I'm surprised you showed up."

Danny shrugged and slid into the other side of the booth. The diner was busy with people and loud with the clatter of cutlery. "I figure last night was its own kind of bonding experience… And I was hoping you'd heard from Malia."

"No." She chewed her lip. "Not yet."

"I called the station a few times. I can't exactly put out a missing person's report for her. They need her dad to do it." He rubbed at his eyes and sighed. "Look, I know Malia. She's fast and smart and… There's no way she didn't get out. I don't know where she is, but she'll have a good reason for wherever she went and why."

"Don't you have questions." Erica shook her head. "We were chased and hunted in that school. The police said there was blood all over one of the hallways, but they never found a body. _Why?_ And who?"

Danny looked up as a waitress dropped by their table. He turned his coffee mug over to be filled and then leaned back in his seat, tapping his fingers against the table. "Trisha never made it out. I didn't see her outside and none of the deputies said they'd found her. The blood could be hers."

"And the body?"

"Maybe it wasn't a person. Maybe it was another mountain lion and they ate the body. Or dragged it back to the woods."

"Mountain lions can't block doors with dumpsters. _People_ did this. Or maybe just one person."

Danny looked away, rolled his eyes, and then said, "According to Jackson, it was Derek Hale. He said Scott told him he'd seen Derek kill the janitor."

Erica pulled a face. "Who the hell is Derek Hale?"

"The Hales used to be a big family in Beacon Hills. They lived out in the preserve. Until a fire killed most of them. Laura Hale's body was found in the woods last month. I saw it in the paper."

"You think he killed her?"

"I don't know. I have no idea what's happening or why." Shaking his head, Danny shrugged. "All I know is that I went to the library last night to help a friend, and now she's gone."

"Maybe we're asking the wrong people."

Danny's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"We keep going to the police, but if anyone knows where she is it's her friends."

"Scott and Stiles."

Erica nodded. "I need to see her for myself. And I want to know what else they know."

"You think they're hiding something?"

"I think it's weird that Scott's the only one who knows who the killer is."

Danny stared at her a beat and then dropped his gaze to his coffee. "If it means finding Malia, I'm in."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

The weather was a lot more blustery than Malia expected; it kicked up her hair and sent it slapping against her face, lashing cold cheeks and a runny nose. The grass crunched underfoot as she stood, hands tucked in the pockets of her jacket, staring at a familiar headstone. She couldn't begin to count how many times she'd found herself standing in this same spot, tracing the letters of her mother's name.

She started and stopped a few times, second guessing what she wanted to say. Toeing the ground, she clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes at herself. "I wish you were here. I know I say that a lot, but… This time's different. Bigger, I guess. I feel like you'd know what to do or what to say and… It'd make this better somehow." Her brow furrowed and she licked her lips. "Maybe you'd know why this happened and maybe you wouldn't, but… I think you'd be okay with it. Not in like a, 'gee, I sure hope Malia turns into a wild animal when she's upset' kind of way. But… I don't know. Nothing ever really fazed you. And you were always okay with me, no matter what weird thing I was into. Like that one year I told you I wanted to be an ice cream truck. Not drive one, _be_ one. And all you said was that I'd probably get cold and they don't make jackets for trucks." She laughed then, a huffing snort that bled into a smile. "I wonder what you'd say now… Maybe you'd crack a joke about fleas or mange or something dumb like that."

Her hands folded into fists then and she looked away. "I can't talk to dad. Which might be the understatement of the last six years. But, this is kind of a big thing, right? We live together. If I do something, if I lose it, I could hurt him, and… I don't know what to do about that. Do I stay away? At least until I can get control. Do I tell him and hope he actually hears me for once? Or… Or I don't know. What else is there?" Crossing her arms, she chewed her lip as her eyes watered. "You could always talk to him. He listened when you were here. And I— I don't have that. I can't make him hear me. And maybe that's an excuse. Maybe that's just how I make it okay. Because he should listen, right? Even though you're gone, he should still be here and he should— He should _care_."

Closing her eyes, Malia rubbed the heels of her palms over them and sniffled. "This is stupid. I don't know why I'm crying. I feel like that's all I've done all morning. I just… There's so much going on and I don't know what to focus on. I'm scared and I _hate_ it. I hate that I can't trust myself. I hate that I feel alone even though I know I have people. Really good people that will be here for me. But, I do. I feel like I'm some kind of freak and I just want to know _why_." She turned her gaze back to the headstone and stared at it until her eyes blurred. She waited for something to change, for some grand understanding to write itself in the cement. But it didn't.

"Was it you?" she wondered. "Were you a shifter? Did— Did you hide it from us the whole time? Was it just always there, passed down to me, and I never knew? I— I don't get it. And I'm mad, mom. I'm _pissed_ that you aren't here to answer these questions. That _no one_ is. I'm just out here, alone, stupidly wishing for something I know I can't change. That's the dumb part, right? I came here thinking somehow, I would just know. Even though I've been here a thousand times before. That I'd stand here, and some divine wisdom would just penetrate my brain and make this better somehow. Because maybe I wouldn't hate it so much if I knew it was a part of you. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst if I knew that I was just following in your footsteps. But I don't know. I'm just stuck here, without you, and… it _sucks_."

Reaching up, she rubbed at her ruddy cheeks, wiping away the tears that wet them. She pulled her sleeves down over her hands and crossed her arms. Walking a few steps over, she stopped in front of Kylie's grave and sighed. "You would love this. I just know it. You'd think it was the coolest thing and you'd spend every day running around in the woods." Malia frowned. "I wish you could."

A loud, tinny clatter could be heard then and Malia turned. Was it loud or was that just her hearing acting up? She scanned the graveyard, but visitors were far and few. A few rows over, however, there was a man… A boy? Someone was walking grave to grave, collecting the old and wilted flowers. He'd knocked over a metal vase. Startled, he'd dropped everything in his arms, and was hurrying to pick it all back up. Malia's feet were moving before she'd given it much thought. She checked the time on her phone and then tucked it back in her pocket. Allison would be picking her up soon, but she had some time to spare.

"You need some help?"

The boy jumped, narrow shoulders hunched up to his ears. The flowers he was holding tumbled to the ground once more, and he winced. A thorn had sliced open his thumb; Malia could smell the blood beading on his skin. It left a sour taste in her mouth and her stomach turned over, queasy.

"It's fine. I can do it," he mumbled.

"Four hands are quicker than two." She bent down and started gathering up the flowers nearest her, carefully stacking them in her hands so the thorns wouldn't catch her skin. The smell coming off the flowers was pungent; some of the stems were mushy with rot. She breathed through her mouth to avoid the stink. "You think it was a florist that came up with the idea that we should lay out flowers for the dead?"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, mouth kicked up faintly. "Not a terrible business plan."

She snorted. "Right?"

He held his bundle of dead and dying flowers close to his chest, petals and leaves clinging to his shirt sleeves. Standing, he stared down at her, his gaze darting away and back. He reminded her of a spooked animal; skittish and nervous. "Are you… Were you… uh, visiting someone?"

"Yeah. A couple people." She stood and walked to the bag he had nearby, half-filled with debris and flowers. "You're a little young to be working at a graveyard, aren't you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Is there an age requirement for that?"

Amused, she shrugged. "Can't say I've looked it up." Tossing the flowers away, she dusted her hands off. "Just a weird job for a teenager to have, I guess."

"Maybe I'm weird."

Humming, she said, "I'm Malia."

"Isaac."

"I've got some time to waste, you want some help with the rest of this row?"

He looked back at what was left and then to her, his eyes wide. "Really?"

"I'm not a big fan of being alone with my thoughts and my friend isn't going to be here for a while. You're doing me a favor, trust me." She walked past him then and crouched down to pick up a cluster of brown peonies. "You ever wonder what their stories are?"

"Who?" He walked alongside her, dragging the garbage bag and holding it out for her to toss the flowers in.

She nodded her chin toward the nearest grave. "You know, check the dates and try to piece together what happened. How long did they have, how'd they die, totally macabre stuff like that."

His voice was quiet as he said, "Sometimes."

"Which one's your favorite?"

"My favorite dead person?"

"Dead person's _story_ ," she corrected.

He took a deep breath. "There's a boy on the other side of the cemetery. He died young, maybe my age. All it says is that he was loved and missed by all… I like to think he had a big family. Lots of brothers and sisters. He was close to his mom. He grew up happy. Plenty to eat, a few close friends, normal stuff. And when he died, it was peaceful. Maybe he wasn't expecting it. Just quick, you know? No pain."

Malia nodded. "Best way to go, I guess."

"Yeah." Isaac glanced at her. "You're friends with Lydia Martin."

She huffed a laugh. "Friends is stretching it. Friendly, maybe."

He nodded, a quick jerk of his head. "I borrowed her pencil once. I forgot to give it back and I thought for sure she'd yell at me. I don't think she even remembered."

Malia half-smiled. "Does it still haunt you?"

He snorted. "No. It's just weird."

"What is?"

"What you start to think is kind. Like someone not talking to you. It's a catch twenty-two. Because if she doesn't notice, it never really mattered. But if she does, it might hurt."

Malia had a feeling they weren't talking about Lydia, not really. And, unfortunately, she could relate. Her dad was like that. Malia's life blew up and he was nowhere to be seen. If she never said anything, he didn't even seem to notice. "Maybe it's better not to rely on how much a person does or doesn't care. They're going to do whatever they want. You kind of have to decide if you're going to let it matter or not."

He looked over at her from the corner of his eyes, not quite turning his head. He seemed strangely small for a boy so tall. Sunken cheeks and bags under his eyes made him look all too fitting in a cemetery. His clothes were baggy and his body gangly in that all arms and legs kind of way. But there was something soft and lost about him, too. Or maybe she was feeling poetic after the last two overemotional days.

Malia's phone buzzed in her pocket and she reached for it. Allison's name stared back at her. Answering it, she smiled. "Hey. Where are you?"

"Parked in a cemetery. For the record, after last night, meeting you _here_ , of all places, is twelve shades of creepy."

Malia snorted. "I'll remember that for next time." Turning on her heel, she cast her gaze out across the cemetery, and finally spotted Allison's car in the distance. "I see you. I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay. _Hurry_. This place is freaking me out."

Hanging up, Malia turned to face Isaac, who had returned to picking up the flowers on his own and was a few graves away by now. "Sorry. She was quicker than I expected."

"It's fine. It's my job. I'd probably get in trouble if anybody saw you, anyway."

"If you do, tell them it was my idea." She crossed her arms then. "Hey, about before… People not noticing and all that… I know the feeling." She shrugged. "Probably in a different way and we hardly know each other, so you don't have to tell me your life story or something, but… Someone I know, someone I trust, told me that what other people do, even what they don't do, isn't a reflection on you. It's really easy to take the blame for other people's bullshit, but… it sucks, and you shouldn't have to."

Isaac stood, facing away from her, wisp thin and curled in on himself. It took a few seconds, but eventually, he nodded. "Do you think… Can they change?"

She stared at him a long moment. "I don't know."

He swallowed tightly. "I don't think so." He looked back at her then, haunted and sad. "I'm not sure I'd forgive them even if they did."

Malia felt a weight fill her chest and sink down into her stomach. She didn't have the words to make it better, but she wasn't sure any really existed.

"Your friend's waiting. You should go." He started walking again, plucking flower after flower and tossing them away.

Malia watched him a long moment and then took a deep breath. She turned on her heel and made her way toward Allison's SUV. While she'd called her earlier just to let her know she was okay, Allison had insisted on meeting in person. And Malia got it. The closer she got to her, the more eager she felt about seeing her. Last night had been awful in every possible way. Yes, they survived, but it still left her on edge, feeling raw and exposed.

The driver's side door swung open then and Malia's footsteps quickened.

Allison hopped out and made her way toward her, breaking out in a jog that covered the last bit of road between them. Throwing her arms around Malia, Allison let out a shaky breath against her shoulder.

Malia sunk into the hug and wound her arms around Allison's waist. "We just talked."

"It's different." Allison squeezed her. "We all got out. I could _see_ them. But you… You were gone." Shaking her head, she leaned back and stared down at her. "Where were you?"

"After Danny and Erica were out, I turned on the music, and then I tried to find you guys, but I saw someone. So, I went in the other direction and…" She winced. "They killed Trisha, the librarian. I slipped in her blood and it was just… _everywhere_. I know it doesn't make sense, but when I realized we were okay, I went to the gym. I needed to get the blood off. It was dumb and I wasn't really thinking straight. I just… I saw the body and there was so much blood…"

"Oh my God…" Allison stared at her searchingly. "No, you don't have to apologize. That's… I don't even know what I would do." She rubbed Malia's arms. "Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Actually, at this point, talking about it is kind of the last thing I want to do."

"I get it." Half-smiling, she said, "You want to get out of here? We can get something to eat or go back to my place and watch a movie… Whatever you want."

"I'm always up for food."

Allison's grin widened. "Okay." She paused then, and her face fell. "One more thing and I won't mention it again for the rest of the day."

"Sure."

"This is so high school and it probably doesn't even really need to be said, but… Last night, when we were trapped in the school and you were out there, trying to help us, I was scared. Not just for me, but for you. And when I got out and you weren't there, when I couldn't' find you, I… I thought the worst." She blinked quickly, tears clinging to her lashes. "And I realized that… you're my best friend." She rolled her eyes. "It probably shouldn't take a serial killer to figure that out, but… I don't know. The thought of losing you really scared me and… I know things are crazy and weird and it feels like they're only getting worse, but… I wanted you to know that. Because you matter to me and I thought for a second that I might not get to tell you." She stared at her searchingly. "And I think we should say those things. Especially when we're scared."

Had anyone told Malia that one day, the same girl that Scott had a crush on would become one of her closest friends, Malia would not have believed them. It was too complicated. There were too many feelings attached that she just couldn't overlook. But, here she stood, in front of Allison, fully aware that she was Scott's _something_ , that she came from a long line of hunters that would gladly mount Malia's head on a wall, and the truth was that it didn't matter. She and Allison had built a relationship despite all of that, whether she knew it or not, and Malia appreciated it.

"You're my best friend, too."

Allison smiled then, so wide and sincere that her dimples seemed deeper than ever. "Okay."

"You wanna get food now?"

She laughed. "Yes."

"Me, too. I'm starving. The last thing I ate was mac n' cheese. I skipped breakfast and I'm seriously regretting it."

Scrunching up her nose, Allison shook her head. "Well, we'll have to fix that."

"Exactly." Malia backed away then, circling around the SUV for the passenger door. She glanced behind her, back toward Isaac, and found his thin figure still moving row to row, flower to flower. She hoped he found some kind of peace.

For Malia, that loneliness that had been plaguing her all morning chipped away just a little in the face of Allison's friendship. Maybe she had a point. Maybe, instead of bottling up her feelings, she should start sharing them. She had a pretty good idea of where to start.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"I understand that I'm not always here. Work keeps me busy. But that doesn't mean that I don't _want_ to be here, or that I'm not thinking about you and worrying." Melissa bustled around the kitchen with no exact purpose, seeming to funnel her frustration into opening and closing drawers and cupboards, moving things from one shelf of the fridge to another. Planting her hands down on the counter, she blew out a heavy sigh. "All I'm saying is that when I get a phone call from the Sheriff's department that you were trapped inside a school and that you saw someone _killed_ —"

"They haven't found a body yet and I'm pretty sure they think I'm lying."

Melissa cut her eyes toward him. "Scott... Did you see someone die in that school?"

He clenched his teeth and nodded.

"Okay. Then I believe you. And I'm _worried_ about you. I feel like things have been strange lately. You're skipping school—"

"It was _one_ time!" he defended.

"Your teachers are telling me that- that you're distracted and anxious and you're missing homework assignments."

He shifted his feet. "I know, and I'm working on that."

"Working on _what?_ " Melissa walked toward him, searching his face. "What is going on and why can't you tell me?"

"Nothing."

She cocked her head, unconvinced. "Is this about Allison?"

"What? _No_."

"Is it about Malia?"

Scott groaned. " _Mom_..."

"I know she's going through a lot. Between her dad and what happened at the video store and now last night on top of things..." She frowned. "Noah said they didn't find her, but they have eye-witness accounts that Malia was there, she got two other kids out, and then nothing."

"Malia's okay. She's at home."

"And that's where you were, right? You stayed with her?"

"Yes. Me and Stiles did."

Melissa pressed her lips flat. "Because something happened to her...?"

"Because she was scared. B-Because somebody locked us in a school and was hunting us. Because they killed the janitor and the librarian and they're still out there!"

Melissa reached for him, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Which is exactly why I was scared. Why I wanted you to come home last night. Why not _hearing_ from you made me upset." Her brows raised. "Can you understand that?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay. I just..." She smiled gently. "I want you to be able to talk to me."

"I know I can. I just wasn't thinking last night. Malia was upset and I didn't want to leave her alone."

Melissa cupped his cheek affectionately. "You're a good friend."

"If I was better, she'd be okay."

"Scott, honey, you can't plan for everything. What happened last night was an aberration. It'll never happen again..." She frowned. "Knock on wood."

He snorted. " _Yeah_."

The doorbell rang then, drawing their attention.

"Are you expecting someone?" Melissa wondered.

"No." Scott frowned. "I'm meeting up with Malia and Stiles later."

"Somewhere well-lit and highly populated, right?"

Scott smiled. "Sure."

The bell rang again.

"I'll get it," he offered, already making his way to the door.

"Ask who it is through the door! Don't just open it," she warned. "It could be anyone!"

Rolling his eyes, Scott pulled the door open, and frowned in surprise. "Uh… hey?"

Danny nodded back, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket.

Next to him stood a girl with blonde frizzy hair tied in a lopsided bun atop her head. She scowled at him. "Where's Malia?"

Sighing, Danny said, "I was going to ease him into it."

Scott blinked at her and then looked back over his shoulder, checking on his mom quickly. Stepping out onto the porch, he pulled the door closed behind him and faced them once more. "Malia's okay. She hasn't called you yet?"

"No. No calls or texts." Danny shook his head. "When'd you see her last?"

"This morning, at her place. But I think she was planning on checking in on everyone."

"Where she'd go?" Danny pursed his lips. "She didn't come out of the school."

Scott looked between them nervously. "I- I think that's something you need to talk to her about. Look, I'm sorry you guys were so worried. I was, too. But, she's okay. Freaked out and healing, but—"

"Healing?" Danny's eyes narrowed. "So, she was hurt?"

Scott sighed. He was screwing this up. "She was, but she's okay."

Erica didn't look convinced, or particularly comforted. "We came back. After she got us out of the school, she told us to get help, and we did. But we came back for her... and she never walked out of that school." She crossed her arms. "We talked to the police. They haven't seen her either."

Scott stared at them a long beat and then dug into his pocket, thumbing through his contacts for Malia's name. Calling her, he raised the phone to his ear and waited.

It took a few rings, but eventually, her voice reached him. "Hey. It's been like, an hour, don't tell me you're missing me already."

Scott half-smiled. "Always. Look, I've got Danny and..." He turned to the girl curiously.

"Erica," she answered.

"And Erica standing on my porch. They're pretty worried about you."

" _Oh._ Uh, I'm with Allison right now. I can call them."

Wincing, he rubbed a hand over the nape of his neck. "I think they want visual proof you're okay."

"Should I send a picture holding today's newspaper?"

He bit his lip to hide a grin. "You could always try."

"Tell Danny I'll call him now. We can meet up somewhere in a bit."

"Okay." he nodded. "I will."

"And I still want to get together later. You, me, and Stiles."

"I know. I do, too."

"I gotta go. Give your mom a hug for me."

He rolled his eyes. "Will do."

She paused then, before saying, very quietly, "Love you."

Scott's heart stuttered. "Love you, too."

The phone disconnected then and he cleared his throat. His face felt warm, and obviously so. Shifting around, he faced them once more. Danny's brow was furrowed, some of the hard edges of his worry and suspicion fading. Erica, however, looked no less aggressive in her pursuit to find her friend. Scott could admire that, at least.

"Malia's going to call you." Scott nodded toward Danny. "She, uh, she said she'd meet up with you guys, so you can see for yourself that she's okay."

As if in answer, Danny's phone started buzzing. Pulling it from his pocket, he walked down the porch. "Hey. I thought you'd call sooner, since I'm still holding your Skittles hostage…"

Scott dragged his gaze from Danny and returned it to Erica. "So, how do you know Malia?"

"We're friends." She stared him down. "How'd you know it was Derek?"

Scott blinked. "What?"

"How do you know Derek Hale is the one that attacked the school last night?"

"Where did you hear—?"

"People talk," she dismissed. "It's weird, don't you think? That you're the only one in the school that saw him."

Scott stared at her searchingly. "You were at the video store, weren't you? With Malia, the night that the mountain lion attacked."

Erica flinched. "Yeah. _So?"_

"I'm sorry."

She frowned. "What?"

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. What happened at the video store was crazy enough, but then the school, too..." He shook his head. "Nobody should have to go through that once, let alone twice."

"Yeah. Well..." She shrugged. "It's whatever."

Danny walked back toward them then, tucking his phone away. "Malia said she'll meet us at the mall food court."

Erica nodded. "Okay. Good."

To Scott, Danny said, "Thanks. And, uh, sorry for ambushing you at your house. We were just worried."

Scott half-grinned. "It's okay. I get it."

While Danny started for his car, Erica lingered.

"Was there something else?" Scott prompted.

She frowned at him. "Malia's a good person."

Scott softened a little. As much as Erica was clearly ready and willing to interrogate him over the strange attack on the school, it came from a good place. And if anyone knew what it was to care about Malia… "I know."

She opened her mouth to say more, but then hesitated, and closed it. Turning abruptly on her heel, she started down the porch.

Scott watched her climb into Danny's car before it backed out of his driveway. He couldn't help but feel like they weren't going to let things go, which meant that everything was just that much more complicated.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _i don't know how i feel about this chapter. it's so emotionally driven that it feels very up and down, which i guess is fitting for malia's emotional state, but makes for a bit of a weird read. i don't know. in any case, i loved writing the malia/scott/stiles friendship. and i like that erica's confidence is beginning to show more. malia's struggling, but she's also making plans for what she wants to do. as much as she's confused and worried and doubting herself, she also knows that they need to move forward and do something. starting with finding derek._

 **things to look forward to next chapter** : _danny/malia/erica reunion; the search for derek; stiles won't shut up about confessions; bed sharing; and malia finds an anchor. :)_

 _thanks for reading, please leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	21. interlude 2

**word count** : 16,095  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : between 1x07 and 1x08

* * *

 **XXI**

The mall food court was _loud_. It always was, but today in particular, it felt like Malia could hear every single sound from every direction. From rubber soles on the polished floors to metal utensils scraping against grills to fingers stabbing cash register buttons. Worse than that, however, was the _smell_. Grease, body odor, perfume, and a variety of foods mixing together. The headache she was suffering was by no means small. Which was why she was trying to do what she'd always told Scott to do when he was struggling. Find one thing and focus on it. For Malia, that was Allison.

Instead of the noise, stacked on top of each other in the most grating way, she focused on how Allison's earrings gave off the faintest ring when she moved. How the necklace she was wearing kept knocking against the buttons of her top. Even her hair, brushing against her back, made a noise. And all of that was better than the excruciatingly loud noise that filled every space around Malia. It took a few minutes, but her hearing went from a fog horn to a dull roar, until she was finally able to just be present. And to eat without feeling like she might vomit from the too-strong smell it was giving off. In fact, once she got control of her hearing and scent, she quickly realized just how hungry she really was.

Malia polished off two burgers and was stealing some of Allison's fries when she noticed the wide-eyed look her friend was giving her. "What?" Brow furrowed, she dipped her fries in her milkshake, popped them in her mouth, and dusted her hands of any lingering salt.

"Two burgers? You must've been starving."

She shrugged. "I guess trauma doesn't affect my appetite."

Allison's face softened. "I'm not judging." She pushed her basket of fries into the center of the table and took one for herself. "Totally embarrassing to admit, but I asked Kate to stay in my room with me last night. I felt like such a baby. I mean, I was scared, but it was different. We hid and we were mostly safe and I wasn't hurt or anything…"

"I don't think trauma works that way. You were chased around, scared out of your mind, and you weren't sure what was going to happen." Malia stirred her milkshake. "Scott and Stiles stayed over at my place. I don't think I would've fallen asleep if I was alone. I was too wired. So, they shared an air mattress on the floor. But... I had this nightmare." She shifted in her seat and chewed the inside of her cheek. "I woke up freaking out and I... I thought I was still trapped."

"In the school?"

She paused. It was moments like these that she wished she could be completely honest with Allison. "Yeah. And I couldn't get out. I was being chased or I was chasing someone, it flipped back and forth. And I thought... I could taste blood. I thought it was Trisha's." _Or the Alpha's_.

"Wow." Allison reached across the table and took one of Malia's hands, squeezing gently. "That sounds intense."

"Yeah." She frowned. "It was."

"You know you can talk to me, right? I know I said we didn't have to talk about it anymore and you said you didn't really want to, but... I'm here."

"I know." Malia half-smiled. "Sometimes I do and sometimes I just want to forget the whole thing ever happened."

"Me, too. I just don't think I can." Allison shook her head. "I've never felt that powerless before, you know? I was running from something I couldn't see. And when we called for help, they just... _hung up_ on us. They didn't even send anyone. I can't help but wonder what might've happened if Danny didn't go to the police and convince them it was serious." Allison's gaze grew distant. "So much could've gone wrong."

"It could've," Malia admitted. "But it didn't. You're okay. We're all okay."

"Physically..." She tipped her head side to side. "Psychologically and emotionally might be another thing."

"How was Kate about the whole thing?"

"Surprisingly good. I thought she'd tease me a little." She rolled her eyes. "Seventeen and I need her to stay with me. But, she _got_ it. She said she understood what it felt to be weak and she never wanted me to feel like that again." Allison swallowed tightly. "I don't either."

"You're not weak." Malia stared at her seriously. "It's okay to be scared. It doesn't feel like it, but it is."

"Yeah." Allison pinched her mouth together as her chin trembled. "I just hate it."

"Me, too."

Letting out a thick laugh, Allison shook her head and reached up to dash at her eyes. "Okay. I promised we would do fun things and get our minds off everything, not cry in the food court."

"Danny and Erica will be here soon. I don't know if they're staying. They just wanted to check in."

"That's good. I know the feeling. I was freaking out all night wondering if you got out." She waved dismissively. "I know you were just processing everything and it wasn't personal, but it's scary. I knew you were in the school and you turned on the music, and then Stiles was texting you and he was worried because he didn't hear back from you. I just feel like I didn't completely relax until you called me this morning."

"I'll be better next time. Or, I guess I hope we never _have_ a next time, but... you know what I mean."

"Yeah." Allison's smile was soft and small. "I get it."

" _Malia!"_

She looked up and turned in her seat, scanning the food court. She caught a flash of frizzy blonde hair and stood to meet them. Danny and Erica were weaving through tables to get to her, with Erica picking up her pace the closer they got. Malia could hear Erica's heart uptick. Instinctively, she held her arms out, and could feel Erica let out a sigh of relief as their bodies collided in a hug.

"You scared the shit out of me," Erica mumbled.

"I'm hearing that a lot lately." She nodded. "You made it though. That's what matters."

"Yeah, except I wasn't sure _you_ did." Leaning back, Erica stared at her searchingly. "What the hell happened?"

"Before we launch into that story..." Danny bumped Erica's shoulder gently and held his own arm out for a hug.

Malia smiled. "I've been hugged more today than in the last month." Probably not true, seeing as Scott was particularly affectionate over this last month, but her point remained.

Danny was a good hugger; he had a way of wrapping his arms around her that felt like she was being completely blanketed in him. It helped that he smelled amazing. She buried her nose against him and inhaled. Considering the riot of smells she'd been trying her best to ignore, it was nice to breathe in something pleasant.

"Armani," he told her, grinning as he stepped back. "I brought you something."

"If it's not Skittles, I'm going to be _seriously_ disappointed…"

Snorting, he shrugged the bag off his shoulder and held it out to her. "Your bag, which you'll be happy to know is still _full_ of Skittles."

Taking it, Malia gave it a shake, and grinned at the rattling noise the candies made when they knocked together. "Just what I like to hear. Thanks." She waved at them to join her and Allison at the table they were sharing and retook her seat. "Allison, this is Erica. Erica, Allison."

Allison smiled politely and raised a hand in hello.

Erica's brow furrowed. "You were in the school too, weren't you? I think I saw you after everybody got out."

"We should start a club," Malia said. "As founder, I vote we immediately demote Jackson to club mascot. He might be less irritating if he's wearing a suit that muffles his ability to speak."

Allison folded her lips to smother a laugh while Erica snorted.

Danny sighed. "I thought we agreed you guys were going to hang out and try to get along."

"A pipe dream, but I appreciate your dedication to both of us." Malia winked up at him and then turned to face the others. "Look, long story short— after you guys got out, I went to the office and dug around in their desks until I found a CD. Miracle of miracles, someone had AC/DC, so I turned that on as loud as the PA system would let me and then I left. I figured that would draw out whoever was chasing us and give Allison and everyone a chance to get somewhere safer. I was on my way to them when I saw someone in the hall, so I ran in the other direction, slipped on, uh, _blood_ , hit the floor and..." She shook her head. "I don't know. It's a little foggy after that. I remember hearing the sirens, but I was in the showers. I needed to get the blood off and I wasn't really thinking straight…"

Danny wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Any idea whose blood it was?"

"Yeah." She looked up at him grimly. "Trish's. I... I saw the body."

"The police can't find one. Not for her or the janitor." Erica looked around at each of them nervously. "That's weird, right? I'm not the only one that thinks that's totally nuts."

"It's definitely weird." Malia frowned. "Stiles said the police can't charge anyone with murder without the bodies. Or they can't really prove it, anyway."

"Who thinks of that?" Allison's forehead wrinkled. "I mean, that takes planning, right? They had to get those bodies out before anyone showed up and not be seen. It's just..."

"Sociopathic," Erica muttered.

" _Yeah_."

After a beat, Erica wondered, "So, does everyone believe it was Derek Hale?"

Allison shook her head. "Not really. I mean, I trust Scott. I don't think he would lie. I just don't understand _why_. It doesn't make sense."

"It was dark and adrenaline was up. Maybe he thought it was Derek and it wasn't." Malia shrugged. "Whoever it was, they're dangerous."

"Right, but dangerous to us _specifically_ or in general?" Danny sat back in his seat, frowning. "You and Erica were both attacked at the video store—"

"By a mountain lion."

"Isn't that a weird coincidence?" His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "And then the mountain lion attacks the school, too."

"I don't know… That's a weird trigger for a serial killer to have. Like, what's the motivation behind it?"

Danny shook his head. "My psych classes haven't covered serial killer psychopathy yet."

Malia snorted. "At least when it does, you'll already have a good topic for a paper."

He rolled his eyes. "I guess my education isn't suffering."

"Except that school's out until next week," Allison pointed out.

Malia perked up. "Hey, you think I could get out of the quiz due to mental stress?"

"Possibly, but you shouldn't." Danny nudged her shoulder. "Before we were unceremoniously locked in the library, you were doing great with the flashcards."

"So my bag of Skittles says." Malia leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. "I just don't want to freeze when it comes to actually doing the test."

"You'll do fine."

His confidence was simultaneously reassuring and annoying. For Danny, these things were just natural. For Malia, she couldn't help but think her math-hating brain would turn on her at the last minute.

"Scott said you were hurt," Erica said.

Malia looked up, her brow furrowed. "Huh?"

"When we stopped by McCall's looking for you, he said you were okay, but that you were back home, healing," Danny explained.

" _Oh_."

Allison frowned. "You were hurt?"

"Not really." Malia wanted to face-palm; why didn't Scott warn her he let something like that slip? "It's just my stitches," she lied. "I landed hard when I slipped and my side was pretty bruised. There was some blood, but I don't think the stitches completely popped. I'll be fine." At their unconvinced expressions, she rolled her eyes. "Guys, seriously. I'm okay, you're okay, we're all okay. But these fries are getting cold and I want to do something that will take my mind off last night, so... Ideas?"

Allison shrugged. "We could go to a movie. There's probably a matinee playing."

Malia looked to the others, too. Danny and Erica both shrugged agreeably. "Movie it is."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Dude, my dad's called me three times in the last hour." Stiles sat back against the arm chair, his feet perched on the coffee table. "I didn't answer one time because I was going to the bathroom, and he was ready to send the National Guard to my location."

Scott snorted. "You were trapped and almost killed by a homicidal werewolf."

"Yeah, but still…" He thumbed out a text before dropping his phone atop his stomach. "How's your mom?"

" _Worried_. She's napping right now. She's got a shift later. She almost cancelled, but I told her I was going out with you and Malia, so hanging around here wasn't going to do much."

His brow wrinkled. "And she was okay with that?"

"She was pretty freaked out, but she was asking a bunch of other questions, too..." He glanced at the stairs quickly and lowered his voice. "She wants to know why I've been missing school and acting weird. I didn't know what to say. It's not like I can tell her I'm a freaking werewolf."

"So, what _did_ you tell her?"

Scott shrugged. "That I was trying to be better. I'm not sure how long that's going to work for, though."

"There's not a whole lot you can do about that."

"No, but maybe Malia had the right idea… About training."

"Can't hurt to work on those reflexes. I mean, your biggest obstacle is control. Part of why you're having trouble staying in control is because you don't trust yourself, which probably stems from not knowing what your limits are." He nodded thoughtfully. "So, let's find out."

"Find out how?"

"Well, we know your nose can sniff out a coyote half-way across the preserve just based on her, uh, _markings_ …" Stiles scratched at his temple. "But we should find out how strong you are, how fast, even your healing ability."

Scott's brow puckered with uncertainty. "How are we going to test the last one?"

"Malia can be our lab rat for that one. She's got stitches and she was wounded by the alpha. She was only turned last night. If she's not healed yet, then we time it. Plus, we can find out if Alpha wounds heal slower than regular wounds."

"Why would they?"

"Well, if Alpha's are the strongest, maybe they cause more lasting damage." Stiles shrugged. "As for the other stuff... Usually, I'd say we should go to the school, but it's a crime scene right now. They'll have a police guard set up until they're done."

"We could still try sneaking in."

"Maybe. I don't know if Malia's going to want to be there, though. There are other ways. We can hang out at the field. I'll borrow a stop watch, and you two can try running around to test out your stamina." Stiles waved a hand. "You know what, leave it to me, I'll figure something out."

"Okay." Scott's phone buzzed then and he dug it out from his pocket. Not for the first time, he was glad that he'd been able to get a new phone that morning. Being disconnected from everyone left him feeling awkward, especially given how dangerous things had been lately. It wasn't the latest model, but it was still new, and he'd even been able to keep his old number. Seeing the name on the screen, a smile slowly pulled up one corner of his mouth.

"Malia?" Stiles asked knowingly.

"Yeah. She's been texting me off and on all morning." His brow furrowed and a heavy weight filled his stomach. After weighing it out, he said, "She told me she loved me this morning, when I called her because Danny and Erica were looking for her... I think it was just a friendly thing, because she's been so freaked out lately. And after the whole shifting thing, she's scared she's going to become the coyote again and she won't be able to get out."

Stiles nodded. "So, it was _just_ friendly?"

Scott pressed his lips flat and stared at his phone. "It has to be, right? Malia... I _know_ her. I'd know if her feelings changed."

"You sure about that?" Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Malia's never noticed you had feelings for her. Dude, _I_ didn't even know. I mean, I knew you guys were close and... Your friendship's always been a little different from me and her, but... I don't know. I figured that's just how you were with friends who were, you know, girls."

Scott sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I tried really hard not to be obvious. I didn't want her to feel weird around me."

"And dating other girls was part of that or...?"

"I liked Allison. And I didn't think Malia would ever like me, so... Allison's a good person. I know her family has this really awful history, but she's different. Malia knows that, too. That's why she stayed friends with her."

"Yeah, that and she was looking out for you." Stiles licked his lips. "Look, all I know is that you and Malia have been thick as thieves since Hitchhiker's. This thing with Cole is about as casual as you can get. And your thing with Allison is over. So... Maybe it's time to stop assuming how she feels and just tell her how _you_ feel."

Scott shook his head slowly. "She just found out she's a shifter. Her whole life just blew up. I don't want to add to that. Right now, I'm the only other person like her. We don't know if Derek's alive or hurt or _dying_. She's going to be need me. If I tell her and she doesn't feel the same way, that's going to mess things up. I can't do that to her, not now. Maybe when all of this is figured out. When the Alpha is gone or arrested or _whatever_."

Scrubbing his hand over his hair, Stiles blew out a sigh. "All right. Okay. Do whatever you think is best."

"Okay."

"But for the record—" He waved a finger around emphatically. "—I encouraged full transparency."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Duly noted."

"Now, what'd Malia say?"

Scott thumbed his phone open and checked his messages. There were three from Malia. —' _your mom sent me a heart emoji so i assume you hugged her for me. thanks!_ '

— ' _you didn't warn me my appetite would sky rocket. i've had two burgers, a milk shake, and most of allison's fries. this better come with super metabolism too or i'm gonna be spending a lot of time running_ '

— ' _head's up, i'm going to a movie with allison, danny, and erica, so don't expect any texts for a while. i'll text you when i'm out though. i want to start looking for derek before it gets dark_.'

Smiling to himself, Scott thumped in a response— ' _i did hug her. she wants you to drop in and see her before she goes to work. or if you can't, we should stop by the hospital real quick_.'

— ' _also ya i'm pretty sure your metabolism helps cover the extra food. on the bright side, you can probably eat your weight in skittles if you really want to. just don't tell stiles i said that.'_

— ' _enjoy the movie. we'll come pick you up when you're done.'_

He wanted to bring up the fact that he was pretty sure her friend Erica didn't like him, but figured it was better to talk to her about it in person. So, he finished off his texts with a heart emoji and then dropped his phone down. It buzzed a second later and he raised it, biting his lip when he saw she'd sent a heart in return.

"Hey, Casanova." Stiles snapped his fingers impatiently. "What'd she say?"

"Uh, nothing. Just that she's going to a movie and she'll call us after. She wants to start looking for Derek."

Stiles grimaced. "What do you think the odds of her forgiving us for the whole 'Derek's the killer' thing are?"

"Low. And it's not on you, I'm the one that said it." Scott grimaced. "I take full responsibility for it."

"Yeah, maybe. I know you panicked. Right now, she's just worried about him. If he's okay, then she'll get over it... And then all we really have to worry about is _Derek_ killing us for telling the police he's a serial killer." He nodded. "That's gonna be fun…"

Scott groaned.

"Cheer up. Maybe he's dead."

Scott frowned. "How is that better? Then Malia's going to be heartbroken. And also… I don't know. He's not my favorite person, but, I don't him to be _dead_."

"Yeah, but he's such a _dick_." Stiles sighed. "All right, fine. So, I don't hope he's dead. I _do_ hope he learns better interpersonal skills, though. You think a near-death experience might teach him some?"

Scott stared at him. "No."

Stiles shrugged.

"Hey, I have to make a run to the mall." Scott pushed up off the couch. "You wanna come?"

"You mean, do I want to drive you?"

"Yeah, that too." Scott walked to the door, tossing a grin over his shoulder. "It's for a good cause."

"Which would be...?"

Scott had already left though, so Stiles had to hurry to catch up.

"Hey! Scotty, what's it for?"

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Somehow, Malia wasn't even slightly surprised to see Lydia waiting for them outside of the theater, looking immaculately put together considering the night before.

"I texted her," Allison said. "I didn't know if she'd come, but..."

"It's fine." The last time Lydia had been faced with a traumatic event, she'd buried herself in prescription drugs and drooled on her bed. Coming out for a movie was a pretty big step forward.

They slowed down as they reached Lydia, who turned to face them with a smirk more than a smile, her designer bag hanging from her elbow. "Every time I see you, you've added another misfit to your toy collection."

Allison rolled her eyes. "Lydia, this is Erica. Erica, please forgive Lydia for being completely rude."

"She can't help it," Malia said. "She was born with a silver spoon up her ass."

Lydia's gaze narrowed. "Remind me again why I should be happy you made it out of the school?"

Erica took a step forward, but Malia merely hung an arm around her shoulders and kept her in place. "It's okay. Lydia gets prickly when she doesn't want to admit she kinda likes me."

"I put up with you." Lydia cast a brief look in Erica's direction. "I refuse to be seen with her until she takes a brush to that hair."

"Good thing we're walking ahead of you. We'll try to put in a good word and see if they'll roll out the red carpet just for you." Winking, Malia tugged Erica along with her and started for the ticket booth.

"I'm still not sure if you two are friends," Erica muttered.

Danny snorted. "Neither are they."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Sixty-five?" Scott's brows hiked and he turned to Stiles. "Is that... normal?"

Stiles shrugged. "What are you looking at me for? I've never done this. I'm not exactly a jewelry guy. The only necklaces I ever made or gave anyone were made of macaroni and cheap, neon beads." He grinned then. "Mom loved those."

Sighing, Scott dug his wallet out and thumbed through his cash. "I've only got forty on me." His gaze cut to Stiles hopefully.

Groaning, Stiles dug his wallet out and pulled out two tens and a five. "Fine. But only because you were right."

With a grin, Scott took the money and slid it across the counter. "How long should it take?"

"Three days. You can pick it up on Sunday. If it's done early, and don't count on it, I'll call." The vendor slid it into his palm, tucked it in a yellow envelope, and asked for Scott's name and phone number. Scrawling the information onto the bottom end of the envelope, he placed it with the others in his to-do pile.

"All right. Thanks." Knocking his knuckles against the counter, Scott stepped back and turned to Stiles. "What do we do now?"

Stiles shrugged. "I could go for some curly fries."

Scott's stomach grumbled agreeably.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

If anyone were to ask Malia what happened in the movie she'd _just_ watched, she couldn't begin to tell them. The group purposely picked a comedy to help lighten the mood, but as much as Malia heard a few chuckles here or there, she had a feeling her friends were still just as distracted with the previous night as she was. On top of that, it seemed everybody but her was on a short leash when it came to their parents. Allison had mandatory check-in times, letting them know where she was and when she expected to be done. According to Danny, convincing his dad to let him leave the house had been a small nightmare. Erica had the same problem with her parents and her cousin, especially since she'd already suffered one huge trauma that weekend. Lydia was texting someone too, but Malia wasn't sure if it was her mom or Jackson. Given the face Lydia was making, which wasn't at all pleasant, Malia assumed Jackson. That would be about the same face she'd make if she had to talk to him regularly. But then, Lydia actually liked Jackson, so maybe she was wrong.

By the time the movie ended, Malia was happy to be out of the dark theater. The blustery weather of the morning had tapered off and the sun was peeking out. _Good_. It would make searching for Derek much easier. The obvious place to start was the Hale House, and she did want to drop in there. But, given Scott's lie to the Sheriff's department that Derek was the perpetrator, she figured they'd have someone stationed at his house to keep an eye out for him. Which meant he had to be somewhere else. But, _where?_

An elbow knocked against hers then and she turned to see Erica staring at her. "You okay?"

Malia nodded. "Yeah. Just tired." She glanced around; Allison and Lydia were in the bathroom and Danny had walked away to call his dad and check in, leaving the two of them alone. "What about you? How are you feeling?"

Erica took a deep breath and rocked back on her heels, shrugging. "Last time, I was scared. I was having nightmares and my own shadow spooked me, but..." She shook her head. "Now, I just feel... _angry_. I want to know who did it. I— I want to stop feeling like this is just one more thing I don't have control over."

Malia nodded. "I get that."

"Do you?" Erica's brow furrowed. "You _stayed_. You risked your life to stay behind… I don't know if I could do that."

"You came back." Malia stared at her knowingly. "That took bravery."

"Yeah, or sheer stupidity." She rolled her eyes. "When you didn't jump, I wanted to be mad at you. I _was_ mad at you. But, it was more than that. I know we're barely friends—"

"We _are_ friends."

Erica half-smiled. "Then let me be your friend. Next time there's a life-threatening maniac running around, _talk_ to me. Give me something to do." She blew out an irritated breath. "I know you were trying to help and I know I was freaking out. But, I can't always run and hide, right?"

"Assuming we get locked in another situation with something out to kill us, I don't know. Maybe running and hiding isn't the worst plan. I think we both know I keep barely making it out of these things."

"But you do and... I'd rather have your back then get away safe and know that I was a coward."

"Hey, no one's calling you that."

" _I_ am." Erica nodded. "Staying behind was nuts. You could've been killed and you sent us away to keep us safe, but nobody was watching _your_ back. And I just don't think that's what friends would do."

Malia chewed her lip. "Okay. Maybe you're right."

"So next time...?"

"Next time, we both get out or we go nuts together."

Erica grinned. "Deal."

Danny walked over to them then. "I don't want to break the party up too early, but my dad is in overprotective mode. I think I'm gonna head home. On the bright side..." He turned to Malia, a slow grin upturning his mouth. "My parents are out of town this weekend. I don't think they want to be, but it's a work thing. Which _means_ … I have the place to myself."

"I hope this isn't the beginning of a proposition, because we both know I'm not your type."

He snorted. "No. But I am planning on having a party on Saturday. It's been a while and I think we deserve some down time. So... invite Cole or Scott or whoever you want. Just be there."

"Saturday. Got it."

"Cool." He turned to Erica then. "You want a ride home?"

Her brows hiked with surprise. "Uh, yeah. Sure, if you don't mind."

"It's like I said…" He started backing down the sidewalk. "Mutual trauma bonds us for life."

Erica turned to Malia. "You're gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Scott and Stiles are coming to get me any minute now. I'll text you later."

"Okay." Hesitating briefly, Erica reached out for another hug before she abruptly let go and then joined Danny in the short walk down the road to where his car was parked.

Malia watched them go, waving as his car pulled away from the curb and they passed her by.

"We should go skating on Sunday." Lydia's voice made Malia flinch at its sudden and _loud_ intrusion— she swung her head around expecting to find them close, but they were nowhere to be found. The sudden noise of a flushing toilet let her know they were still in the bathroom and her hearing was acting up on her.

"We as in...?" Allison asked.

"You, me, Tate. She can bring the blonde one along too, if she wants."

"Erica."

"Yeah, her." Lydia's voice was dismissive.

"What brought this on?"

"What do you mean? Nothing. I just think it'd be nice to do something and we had fun skating, right? So, why not?"

"We did... I'm just surprised you actively want to hang out with Malia."

"Maybe I like watching her attempt to skate."

" _Or_ maybe you like hanging out with her." Humor bled into Allison's voice. "She's pretty much the only one that exists on the same level of snark as you."

"Please, my level of snark is _far_ superior. And anyway, maybe I do. She's not the _worst_ person you could've befriended. She just has questionable style sense and literally no interest in maintaining any kind of social status, which would immediately make her invisible to me, but you've forced me to acknowledge her existence, so now I'm stuck with her."

"Is that your roundabout way of saying that you like her?"

"Allison, honey, take what you can get."

With a lighthearted chuckle, she said, "Okay. Backing off."

"Thank you. And here, use this lipstick. You look washed out."

A knock to her shoulder sent Malia back to her present surroundings. She glared after the man walking down the street, her mouth pursed. _Dick_. As if there wasn't plenty of sidewalk space for him to walk on. Her phone buzzed then and she looked down, tucking her hair behind her ear with her free hand. Stiles had texted her— ' _we're almost there. is there any leftover popcorn?_ '

Malia rolled her eyes. —' _yeah right. i ate the whole bag and a good chunk of danny's._ '

He sent her back a frowning emoji.

"Hey." Allison walked out of the theater, hands tucked in the pockets of her jacket, and lightly knocked her shoulder against Malia's. "What are you doing Sunday?"

"Uh… nothing that I know of. Except possibly nursing a hangover. Danny invited me to a party at his place. Why?"

"Oh." Allison's eyes widened. "I didn't know he was having one."

"I think it was a last-minute thing he just decided." Malia shrugged. "You should come. We can hang out together."

She grinned. "Okay, sure. But, for Sunday, we were thinking we could go skating."

Malia nodded. "Sure. I'm in."

The jeep pulled up to the curb then, brakes squealing obnoxiously. Stiles leaned out the window with an over the top grin on his face. "Malia, Allison... _Lydia_."

Lydia squinted her eyes at him and then abruptly turned to Allison. "I want to go shopping."

Exasperated, Allison shook her head. "Okay." To Malia, she said, "Text me later?"

"Sure. And butter your parents up so they'll let you sleepover at my place Saturday."

Grinning, she nodded. "I will."

"Excuse me..." Lydia looked between them, offended. "What about me?"

Malia pulled the back door of the jeep open. Hopping in, she smirked at Lydia through the window. "I'm sure Danny'll let you in if I ask nicely."

Lydia glared. "Hilarious."

Malia waved as Stiles pulled away from the curb.

Stiles' gaze darted from the road to the rear-view mirror and back, staring at her curiously. "Remind me again when you and Lydia became friends?"

" _Not_ friends. _Friendly,_ " she corrected

Scott's brow knit. "Is there a difference?"

"Yes."

The boys exchanged a look. "Okay..."

Somehow, they didn't sound convinced.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

The search for Derek began at the school.

"Can I just emphasize how important it is that we _aren't_ seen? If one of my dad's deputies sees us and tells him, I'm dog food, okay?"

"Was that a not-so-subtle jab at Scott?" Malia kicked at loose leaves as she made her way across the grass, toward the school. There was still crime scene tape across the doors and a cop car was sitting in the parking lot, empty of the pair of deputies who were making the rounds to make sure nobody was around. The jeep was parked out of sight, but how much time they had to linger at the school was limited.

"Subconsciously, probably." Stiles shrugged, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket. "Why are we coming back here, anyway? It's not like Derek's hanging out inside."

"No, but we might be able to piece together where he went." Scott's gaze found the dried blood against the brick wall of the school. "This is where he was thrown by the Alpha."

"Right, and while we were being chased around the school, _he_ got into his car and drove away." Stiles' brows hiked. "He could be anywhere. And the last place he'd want to hang around is here, so..."

Malia sighed. "Maybe it's not as cut and dry as we think."

Stiles shrugged. "I thought you'd want to hit up the Hale House."

"I do." Malia walked ahead, crouching down in the grass, where a concentration of blood could be found. The smell was strong, pungent, and coppery. In comparison to the cool, fresh scent of the forest, it was hard to ignore. "This was the last place you saw him. And his car was over there..." She stared out at the empty parking lot and then shifted, turning her gaze toward the woods. "If the Alpha was still here, Derek would've tried to hide. He probably couldn't get to his car, but out here is too open."

Scott turned, following her gaze. "You think he went to the woods."

Standing, she nodded, and then her gaze searched the ground. "There. See it?"

Scott started walking, his head bowed. "A blood trail."

Together, Scott and Malia followed it with quick steps.

"Hey, geniuses. How do we know it's Derek's and not Malia's?" Stiles jogged after them. "She went into the woods too, right? And she was bleeding from a wound on her ribs. What if she found Derek here and then went after the Alpha. Derek gets himself to the car, takes off when the coast is clear."

"It's not my blood," Malia denied, in the same breath that Scott said, "It's not hers."

"Oh, cool, we're doing a twins thing now." Stiles rolled his eyes. "That's _great_."

"I smelled her blood last night," Scott explained. "It doesn't smell like this."

"Blood has a distinct smell? It's not all the same?"

He shook his head. "No. And werewolf blood is stronger. Werecoyote too, I guess."

They made their way into the trees, clustered together. Malia was suddenly overwhelmed with noise. Rushing water from a nearby creek, rustling branches, birds chirping, animal feet. And the smell— like compost, the earth living and dying all around her, feeding back into itself. Her nose wrinkled and she opened her mouth to try and limit the sensory overload.

"Are you okay?" Scott's fingers brushed her elbow. "Is it too much?"

"It's fine. Just takes some getting used to." Her foot landed on a twig, snapping it in half and drawing her eye. She paused; overcome with a sense of déjà vu. Frowning, she said, "I think Stiles was right."

Stiles' mouth kicked up on one side. "Words I'll never tire of hearing."

"I was here." She turned, her gaze washing over the trees. "I... I remember..." Turning around, she faced the way she came. "I saw Danny and Erica, they were out front, waiting for help to arrive. They wanted to see me." Her brow furrowed. "Tall Boy and Yellow Girl."

Scott and Stiles exchanged a look.

Stiles scratched his temple. "Uh, you wanna repeat that last part?"

Turning on her heel, Malia started walking, marching across the forest floor, hopping over a fallen log, her hand wrapped around an outstretched branch for balance. "I was chasing the Alpha. I was going to kill him, to protect everyone." Nodding, she picked up her pace. "I could smell him. He was bleeding still, from where I slashed him. He smelled like…" _Blood, ash, death._

"Malia... You're too fast. Wait for us!"

But she didn't hear them, she kept running, her heart pumping hard. Visions of the night flooded her mind. The forest dressed in a blue, shadowy glow. Exhilaration and anticipation filling her up from her toes. She wanted to prove herself. To show the Alpha that this was her territory, her people, her home. She panted, every inch of her body covered in fur. When she licked her teeth, eager to sink them into the Alpha, she tasted— _blood._

Malia stopped abruptly and whipped her head around, her eyes wide.

 _(A distraction, that was all it was. She should keep going, keep following. Only..._

 _She knew this smell. Beyond the blood. There was something familiar.)_

"What? What is it?" Scott stumbled to a stop next to her, searching her face, both curious and worried.

"I smelled blood."

"The Alpha's?"

"No. Not mine either. I..."

( _She followed the blood. Not because her stomach rumbled with hunger, though it did._

 _Not because her teeth ached to sink into soft flesh, though they did._

 _Not because she was easily distracted, though she could be._

 _No, she followed the scent because it was one of hers._

 _One of Lia's people, but one of hers, too._

 _A boy. A man. A_ wolf.)

She blinked quickly, her brow furrowed. "It was familiar. It was special."

"Like another werewolf?"

Malia nodded and started walking. "I had to find him. I knew the Alpha would get away, but..." The trees parted to reveal a small clearing, a huge tree laid out across the middle, covered in moss. And there, beneath it, was a puddle of dried blood. Malia crossed the distance and knelt. "He was here. I... went to him."

"Who?"

( _Sniffing at his boot, she followed his leg, nudged his stomach with her snout, and then met his face. He stared back at her, eyes at half-mast, skin pasty and damp. His eyes flared, lit a bright blue. Her own answered; she could see their yellow reflection in his eyes._ )

"Derek. He was hurt, he wasn't healing yet. He was pale and sweating and—"

 _(A slow smile upturned one side of his mouth. "Took you long enough.")_

Her eyes glowed and a low growl echoed from her throat.

"Uh..." Stiles eyed her worriedly. "Was that directed at anything in particular or...?"

Scott edged closer to her, carefully leaning down and touching her shoulder. "Malia?"

She whipped around to face them, baring fanged teeth in a snarl. "He knew!"

Yelping, Stiles jumped back a step. "Yep, okay, that's a lot of teeth."

Scott crouched in front of her and reached out; his hands gently wrapped around her forearms. "Hey, talk to me… What did he know?"

"He knew I was a coyote. He always knew." Her eyes darted, never quite landing on anything. Chest heaving, her lungs squeezed and ached as she struggled to calm her breathing. "H-He was waiting on something to trigger me."

"Wait, what?" Scott shook his head. "He said that?"

"When he saw me, he knew who I was. I..." She closed her eyes and frowned, trying to remember. "That's all I remember. What matters is he _knew!_ " She stood then, vibrating with anger. "And he never told me."

"Well, he's not here now..." Stiles put his hands on his hips, gaze sweeping the area before returning to them. "So, that means he lived, right?"

"Maybe." Scott pursed his lips. "We still need to find him."

"Yeah." Malia scoffed and started walking. "So I can kill him myself."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia marched through the woods, batting branches out of her face aggressively.

"Are you okay?"

" _Fine_."

Scott's fingers gently folded around her wrist, tugging lightly to get her to slow down.

Malia cast her gaze upward, irritable, but let her feet slow. When she turned around, she was surprised to see they were alone. "Where's Stiles?"

"I think we lost him about ten minutes ago. You were walking fast enough he couldn't catch up." Scott stared at her searchingly. "Are you sure Derek knew?"

Taking a deep breath, she let it out on a loud sigh. "He had to. And it explains so much. That first time we met, in the room at Lydia's, when he asked me what I was, and I brushed it off because I thought he was talking about _you_." Her leg started bouncing and her fingers see-sawed between stretching and folding into a fist. "I let him stay in my house, in Kylie's _room_ , and he kept that from me."

Scott's hands slid up and down her arms in an attempt to comfort her. "I know you're mad—"

"I _am_. And he deserves it. I told him over and over again that he need to talk to us, to tell us what was going on. And he made it seem like he was, that he was being honest with me." She shook her head. "How could he keep that from me? What if I turned somewhere else, in front of people? What if I _hurt_ someone?"

"Malia, you're getting worked up."

Her eyes flashed at him and she felt her nails lengthen, her teeth sharpen. "Wouldn't you be? He was supposed to be my friend. I _trusted_ him and he _lied_ to me!"

His hands cupped her face then, thumbs pressed against the arches of her cheeks. "Hey, look at me."

Malia met his gaze, her own a vivid yellow, burning bright and angry.

A panting Stiles suddenly entered the area, bent over and gripping his side. "Oh, I got a stitch. It hurts, oh God. Jogging is the worst. Why do people do this for fun? And why did you guys leave me alone back th—" He cut himself off. "Holy Jesus. _Malia?_ Facial hair is, uh, yeah, it's a look."

" _Stiles_ ," Scott snapped.

Stiles faced his hands around his face, his fingers twitching. "She has sideburns and her eyebrows are all wonky."

"She's shifting. Because she's angry..." He stared at her. "And she's hurt."

Malia clenched her teeth and growled at him.

"I don't know why Derek did what he did. It was an asshole thing to do. And I know that you want to tell him that to his face. But for that to happen, you need to calm down. We'll find him and then he can answer all your questions. But right now..." Scott's thumb gently tapped her cheek. "I need you to breathe and focus and come back, okay? I know you don't want to shift completely and I think if you get anymore upset, you're going to."

 _'Good. Shift, Lia. Do it! I can handle this. I can find Wolf-Man and the Alpha. I'll be fast and strong and they won't get away. I promise. Just let me out! Let me free!'_

Malia squeezed her eyes shut and panted through her nose, her nostrils flaring. "I c-can't. I can't _think_."

"Yes, you can." Scott's voice was calm and sure. "Focus on one thing. Something that makes you feel safe. Let it guide you."

"I don't— I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing. Everything is so loud."

His hands covered her ears then, muffling the noise around her. He pulled her closer, his cheek pressed to her forehead. The world tilted for a moment, and then righted itself just as his smell enveloped her. Every deep, shaky breath was filled more and more with Scott's scent. She pushed herself forward, her nose buried at his neck. It wasn't cologne; he'd stopped wearing it once his senses went crazy. It was just him, his skin, and the faintest whiff of laundry detergent. His hands left her ears and found her shoulders, squeezing lightly.

It could've been seconds or minutes, she wasn't sure. But eventually, Malia's breathing slowed to a normal rhythm and her racing heart began to level out. When she opened her eyes, she was flooded with complete calm. Her hands gripped either side of Scott's shirt and she slowly became aware of just how close they were standing. The entire front of her body melded to his, her face tucked up close to his neck, nose and mouth buried in the crook.

One of his hands slid up, drawing her hair back from her face. "Okay?"

She nodded, but she didn't step back. Her body felt wrung out, her arms heavy and limp, and her legs like noodles, ready to collapse under her.

"I've got you." His arm wrapped low around her waist, stabilizing her, while his other hand swept up and down her back soothingly. "Just focus on your breathing, okay?"

"Not to be a buzzkill or anything, but what the hell was that?" Stiles wondered.

"She controlled it." Malia couldn't see his face, but she could hear the grin in Scott's voice. "She stopped herself from shifting. Well, mostly."

"Hey, good job." Stiles' voice was light and snarky. "Question… How close was I to being gutted and eaten out here?"

Scott snorted. "You were fine. She would've stopped at gutting you."

"Oh, ha ha. Real funny."

"I thought it was."

Malia tipped her head up, chin still hooked over his shoulder. She stared out into the forest, watching the wind rustle a bush, leaves swaying and dancing. And she thought of the coyote stuck inside her, so eager to get out, to take over. But she couldn't let it. She had to find a way to make sure it stayed where it was. At least until she knew how to control it.

A voice filled her ears then, and a fuzzy memory of the school parking lot followed.

There was Derek, sitting in his car. Wounded, bleeding, and pale.

 _'Wait_...' he'd called to her. ' _You can't hide. I know... I know that seems hypocritical coming from me. But you have to... you need to shift back.'_

The coyote had disagreed, Malia remembered that. The coyote thought what she was doing would _protect_ Malia and the rest of the pack. She planned to live in the woods and never turn human again.

 _'It's no way to live_ ,' were Derek's parting words, before taking off in his car.

He got out. He got away. He was still injured, but he was alive last she saw him.

"We're not far from the Hale House," Stiles said. "Maybe a five-minute walk. Or a one-minute jog if you're a gazelle like Malia."

Scott snorted. "Are the police out there?"

"Yeah, probably. My dad thinks Derek is a serial killer, so... He's probably got a couple cars posted there."

"Should we risk it?"

"If they don't see us, we should be fine. You can probably sniff him out, right? Hey, maybe there's another blood trail we can follow."

"Can't hurt to try. If he's not there though, we're running out of options."

"So, what do you suggest?"

"What about the training stuff?" Scott wondered. "What if we worked on that?"

"What— now? _Here?"_

"No better place, right? Nobody will see us out here."

"We could do it at Malia's. She's got that long stretch of dirt road off the highway. We can see how fast you guys run. And there's plenty of things to test your strength. Trees, that broken-down truck her dad's _never_ going to move. Plus, if she does fully shift, we're close to where her clothes are so she's not running around naked again."

"Okay, that'll work." Scott squeezed her waist. "What about you? Are you up for that?"

Her legs were feeling steadier and her mind less fuzzy. She was still distracted and upset, but she could stand on her own two feet. Then again, leaning against him like she was felt kind of nice. "Mm-hmm."

"You want me to carry you?"

Her mouth ticked up faintly. "I can walk."

"Are you sure?"

She leaned back from him and met his eyes, staring down at her with all the warmth and sincerity one person could muster. "I'll be okay."

His brow furrowed. "Actually… That reminds me. How are you healing?"

Malia shrugged. "What, like, physically? I haven't really been thinking about it."

"Does that mean your side is okay?" His hand brushed against her hip and she jumped at the contact. "Like your stitches or where the Alpha scratched you?"

Malia stepped back and shrugged out of one half of her jacket before hiking her shirt up. She peeled the bandage off her ribs and angled herself. "Can you see?"

Scott helped pull the bandage down. Grinning, he looked up at her. "The stitches are almost healed."

"Seriously?" Stiles hurried over and took a look, too. "Hey, they are. But, uh, you got five holes that are still pretty gruesome… You think they'll scar?"

Scott shook his head. "No idea." He pressed the bandage down against her skin and smoothed down the edges. "You should put a clean bandage on this when we get back to your place."

Malia nodded.

"Does it hurt?"

When his fingertips grazed her skin, Malia's breath caught and she shivered. "I…" She paused and looked down.

Black lines were running up Scott's arm.

"Hey." She pursed her lips. "It wasn't that bad."

"No, but it still hurt." He drew his hand back. "I should've asked though."

Malia stared at him a beat and then let her shirt drop. "It's fine. I just wasn't expecting it."

"Uh, _yeah_ , neither was I!" Stiles held a hand up for attention. "What the hell was that?"

"He can take pain," Malia informed him blandly.

"Take _pain_ …" Stiles' brows hiked. "Wh- _What?_ Are you freaking serious? That's like, superpower territory."

"Isn't most of this stuff?"

"Well, yeah, but… _still_. I mean, how cool is it that you can take someone's pain away? Does it work on everyone? Or everything? Like, if I had a headache—"

"I'm starting to feel one coming on right now," Malia muttered.

Stiles ignored her. "—or even a papercut, you think you could absorb it?"

"Probably, yeah." Scott shrugged. "I don't think it's a permanent thing though. Like, it only really lasts as long as you're touching someone. At least, I think that's how it works. We're still kind of figuring it out."

"How _did_ you figure it out?" Stiles wondered, gaze bouncing between them.

"After the video store," Malia offered. "My stitches hurt more than I was expecting."

Stiles nodded. "So, you've only taken Malia's pain then? Have you tried it on anyone else?"

"Haven't really had a lot of people offering." Scott half-smiled. "Why, do you have a papercut I don't know about?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "No. I'm just… I mean, if you never try it on anyone else, maybe it's just a… You know, a _you two_ thing."

Malia's brow furrowed. "What, because we're shifters?"

"Yeah. _Or_ because you're, you know…" He waved between them. "Close."

Scott's mouth pursed. "You think I can only take her pain because she's my friend?"

Stiles sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "You know what, let's just head to Malia's and figure out how we're going to test _all_ of it. We know Malia's stitches, which were, what, three days old? Those are almost healed and she only shifted for the first time last night. She was healing normally before that. The Alpha wound was last night and it's healing, but nowhere near as quick. Is that because it's worse or because the Alpha made it?"

Malia shrugged. "I don't know. But I'll keep an eye on it, see how long it takes."

"Good." Stiles nodded. "All right, so let's get back to my jeep, which is…" He glanced around. "What direction?"

Malia pointed. "That way."

"Uh, yeah, what she said," Scott agreed.

Malia rolled her eyes, amused. "Let's go."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

With a fresh bandage on her ribs, Malia stood at the makeshift line Stiles had drawn in the dirt at the beginning of the road just outside her house.

"Okay, rules are you run all the way to the very end, turn around, come back." Stiles, sitting in a foldable lawn chair, had a timer in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. "All right?"

Malia looked to Scott, who grinned back at her. They nodded.

"Ready… set… _go!_ "

Malia loved running. She always had. Since she was a little girl and found her once wobbly legs were stable enough to stand on. Track was a given; she'd gravitated toward anything that let her run. The wind on her face, the muscles moving in her arms and legs, the squeeze of her lungs; it was exhilarating. But in all the years she'd spent running, crossing finishing lines well before her teammates and other contenders, she'd never moved quite this fast. The world seemed a blur around her, sound dulling in her ears. There was only the crunch of dirt and gravel underfoot and her body moving as gracefully as it ever had or could. She felt the ground skid under her as she reached the end, pivoted, and started back. She knew Scott was close— she could hear his heartbeat and his panting breaths. But she was ahead— she was _faster_. Her vision narrowed down to Stiles in the distance; a shock of red from the plaid shirt he was wearing. She focused on that, watching it grow and grow, until it was right in front of her and she came to a skidding stop just short of his chair.

"Holy shit…" He stared up at her, wide-eyed. "That… was… _amazing!_ "

Malia laughed, adrenaline rushing through her system. She put her hands on her hips, a grin spread wide across her face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Scott came to a stumbling stop next to her then. "I couldn't keep up."

Malia shrugged. "You gave it your best shot."

Brows hiked, Scott nodded. "I did. How do you feel?"

"Pretty great, actually." She turned to Stiles then. "What else did you want to test?"

" _Everything_." Stiles nodded eagerly. "How high you can jump, how strong you are, your hearing."

"All right, okay. Let's just try one thing at a time," Scott suggested.

"But we can text your refractory period, too." Stiles' eyes widened. "How long after you've done something intense before you can do it again, you know? Do you even have downtime?"

"The fact that we need to heal kind of shows we do, doesn't it?" Malia's brow furrowed. "Unless it's not time that affects healing."

The boys turned to her. "What do you mean?"

"Derek said that the more betas an alpha has, the more powerful they are. What if that's not just for strength or speed, but for everything? And what if it's not just for alphas? I mean, he said packs are like a family. What if it's all inter-connected? So, like, the bigger the pack or maybe just the more connected a pack is, the faster a beta will heal."

Stiles stared at her a beat and then scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish Derek was around to confirm or deny that."

"Yeah." Malia pursed her lips. "There's a few questions I'd like him to answer…"

Scott reached for her, his fingers gently cupping her elbow. "Wherever he is, I'm sure he'll find us when he's ready. For right now, why don't we focus on figuring out what we can?"

"So, strength then?" Stiles nodded, clapping his hands. "All right. Who wants to lift up an old truck? Huh?" He looked between them excitedly.

Malia and Scott exchanged a look and sighed.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

For the record, they _could_ pick up the truck. It was by no means easy and they weren't lifting it over their heads or anything, but they definitely picked the front end off the ground. After testing their limitations there, Stiles had them attempt a supernatural version of long jump. They took a running leap and saw how far they could get before they landed. The amount of space for a starting run shortened each time, until they were eventually just testing how far they could jump without any build up whatsoever. And it was… exhausting, but informative.

"Okay, look, I've got an idea." Stiles started pacing. "Coyotes versus werewolves, right? The Alpha ran off when Malia chased him. Maybe that means something. Or maybe not. I'm not really sure. _But_ , what I do know is that you two are different. Which means we should see what kind of differences there are."

Scott frowned. "Like what?"

"Like, what if one of you is stronger? We know Malia's faster, but maybe that's just because she was already fast, being a track star and everything."

"How do we test it?" Malia wondered.

"Well, you can both pick up a truck." He drummed his fingers against his chin. "But what about… Okay, here me out, you guys fight each other."

"What? Why?"

" _No_. No way."

"It doesn't have to be an all-out brawl. I'm just saying, we can test reflexes. We know for sure you're going to dodge a punch if _I_ throw one." To prove it, Stiles took a swing at Malia, who not only moved her head out of the way, but grabbed for his wrist and yanked him forward.

Unprepared, Stiles hit the ground abruptly, landing on his chest and giving out a struggling groan. "Okay, _ow_."

"Sorry!" Malia reached for him, helping him back onto his feet. "I just sort of reacted."

"Yeah, I _noticed_." He glanced at her, dusted himself off, and then turned to Scott. "Look, I'm human, so that hurt. But with you two, you should be quick enough to block each other."

Malia looked from Stiles to Scott and then shrugged. "We can try."

"I don't know…" Scott chewed his lip. "I don't want to hurt you. I'm still learning how to use my strength."

Her gaze narrowed. "Who says you'll hurt me? Maybe I'll hurt you."

Scott stared at her searchingly. "What if it triggers one of us?"

"Then we talk each other down." She shrugged. "At least we're out here. The only one who might get really hurt is Stiles. And the other person can protect him… You know, unless we're _both_ triggered."

Stiles let out an awkward laugh. "Uh-huh, great. That's super encouraging."

Malia tossed him a grin and then turned back to Scott. "It doesn't have to be anything big. It's like what Stiles did. We test out our reflexes." She shrugged her jacket off and tossed it to the ground in a heap. Bouncing from one foot to the other, she shook her arms out and rolled her neck. "We can come up with a safe word if you want."

Scott's mouth quirked in a smile. "You're sounding pretty confident."

"Is that a nice way of saying I'm getting cocky?"

He grinned. "Yeah."

She startled circling him then. "You better prove me wrong then."

Scott turned with her, watching. "How are we gonna—"

Malia took a jab at him, her fist coming in quick. But Scott ducked it, his eyes wide. She smiled, showing off teeth. "Dad put me in those self-defence classes, remember?"

"Right now? _Vividly_." Scott pivoted so he was facing her better, his gaze watching her fists.

Malia dropped down and kicked her leg out, sweeping him at his ankles.

Arms wind-milling, he landed hard on his back. " _Oof_."

Malia leaned over him, hands on her hips. "It's not always going to be obvious."

"Yeah." His voice was a stressed squeak. "Picking up on that."

Taking his hand, she pulled him back up. "This is fun."

Glancing at her, he suddenly yanked at her hand, pulling her forward, so her feet stumbled. She came to a stop face-to-face with him, her eyes wide. Scott grinned. "Element of surprise, right?"

She stared at him a beat. "Yeah. Don't forget to follow through, though." She reached her leg out, hooked her ankle behind the back of his, and pulled.

Scott's leg caved under him and he started falling sideways. Catching himself, he stood back up, and turned to her.

"C'mon, Scotty, you're getting your ass kicked here." Stiles was sitting in his lawn chair again, eating a bag of chips.

"Yeah, thanks, I noticed." Scott kept an eye on her, his hands out as he started circling her, trying to keep his distance.

Malia raised an eyebrow. "You can't fight me from over there."

"I'm not sure I want to."

She rolled her eyes. "You won't hurt me."

He grimaced. "You _think_."

"Scott…" She leaned forward. "We're the same now. I'm not as weak as I was before."

He frowned. "You were never weak."

The words hit her harder than she expected. Taking a deep breath, she tried to shake it off. "Fine, not as vulnerable then." She waved her fingers at him. "Come on… Show me what you got."

Scott glanced at Stiles and then back to her. "I don't _know_ what I have."

Malia grinned. "Run at me. Just… let instincts do it for you."

Hesitating, Scott bounced back on his heels for a moment and then launched himself forward. She could see from the uncertain look on his face that he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing or where this was going to end up. Truth be told, neither did Malia. What she did know was that as soon as he was close enough, she leaned forward, pushed off, and slammed her shoulder into his stomach. Scott went up and over her, flipping in the air and landing hard on his back.

Malia turned around to see him, then winced. Stepping closer, she leaned over him. "Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh."

"You don't _sound_ okay..."

Scott shook his head.

Worried now, Malia reached for him.

Scott grabbed her hand and pulled. Suddenly, everything was spinning, until finally, she was on her back, staring up at a blue, cloudy sky. And then Scott was there, hands pinning hers down above her head, his body flat on top of hers. He was panting, but his face was lit with excitement and his eyes gleamed with triumph. "Like that?"

She stared up at him. "Not bad. But not everybody is going to check on you."

She leveraged herself up, thrust her hips against his, and turned them over, so he was the one splayed out on the ground beneath her. Her knees dug into the dirt, thighs framing his hips, and their stomachs pressed together. She could feel his heaving chest meet hers with each indrawn breath. Her hair had fallen out of its ponytail and was curtaining either side of their faces, the ends gently ghosting against his cheeks.

Scott stared up at her, his expression wide and tense, until suddenly it wasn't. His face relaxed, a slow smile spreading across his mouth. "You're good at this. I should've expected that."

"Maybe it's easier for me. I have you."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… when you first changed, you couldn't do this stuff. You didn't have anyone to practice with. We were trying to control you. We never thought about what it would be like to let you loose… To _enjoy_ your new abilities."

"Are you? Enjoying them?"

"Mostly it's been loud and scary and— and I don't know how I even got here. But… I know I'm lucky." Her hands squeezed his, their fingers folding together. "You talked me down out there. When all I wanted to do was find Derek and… And I don't even _know_. I was just so angry and I could feel her, the coyote, she wanted out so much. But then you were there and your voice, even just the smell of you, it made me feel safe."

"I'm glad." He stared up at her searchingly. "You've done that for me from the start. I… I'm glad I can do it for you, too."

"Yeah." She swallowed tightly. "I don't know what I'd do if I was alone in this."

"Good thing you aren't."

"Scott, I—" She paused. "You're vibrating."

He blinked at her. "Huh?"

She looked down between their bodies; he was comfortably tucked in the cradled of her thighs, which meant their lower halves were plastered together and— "Your phone, I think. It's vibrating."

"Oh. _Oh!_ " He released one of her hands and reached down, digging in his jeans for his phone.

Malia sat up and back, reaching up to pull her elastic out entirely and scrape her hair up into a ponytail again.

Scott cleared his throat and lifted his phone to his ear. "Hello?" his voice came out in a noticeable strangle.

Worried she was putting too much weight on him, Malia stood, climbing off him and walking toward Stiles to give Scott some space and privacy.

Knees up, Scott was rubbing a hand over his forehead, his eyes closed. "Mom, hey…"

Malia focused on Stiles. "So, how was that?"

"The fighting was good. The weird sexual tension while you two dry humped on the grass wasn't exactly my cup of tea, but to each their own." He waved a hand at her. "Is it weird I'm not at all surprised you're the aggressive one in the relationship?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "We weren't dry-humping. We were talking."

"Sure, yeah. I always have to pin my friends down and sit in their laps while we talk. Totally normal and not sexually motivated at all."

"Whatever." Malia took a seat in the grass and crossed her legs at the ankle. "We did pretty good though, right? I mean, our reflexes are quick."

"Yours more than his. But I can't tell if that's the self-defence stuff or because he's hesitating."

"Because he doesn't want to hit a girl?" Her gaze narrowed. "I'm just as capable as any—"

"Hey, I know. And so does he. I mean, come on. It's _Scott_. No, he was hesitating because it's _you_. As in, there's almost no reason on the planet Scott would ever purposely hurt you." He stared at her searchingly. "You know that, right? I don't just mean in a physical fight sense, I mean that in _every_ sense." He glanced at Scott to make sure he was still busy on the phone. "Malia, you need to tell him."

Malia tensed. "Hey, ix-nay on the eelings-fay, all right? This isn't the right time."

"Yeah, because there's never going to _be_ a right time." He leaned forward in his chair, planting his elbows on his knees. "I need you to trust me on this, all right? You need to be honest with Scott, _and_ yourself. This werecoyote stuff is crazy as hell and I know you've got a lot going on right now. But isn't that the best time to figure out something easy? You and Scott make sense. You're best friends, you're both shifter-whatevers, you're each other's favorite person—"

"Hey, don't demote yourself in my life, okay? You're my best friend, too."

"I know that, I do." He nodded. "Just like I know I'm Scott's. But you and him, you're different. And I don't just mean that on the 'you can turn into a coyote and he can track your pee trails' kind of way. I mean…" He paused and ground his teeth together. "Malia, Scott is—" He cut himself off and then looked past her. "Hey, Buddy! What'd your mom have to say?"

"Not much. She just wants me home before it gets dark." He shrugged. "I thought we could pick her up some dinner, too. Drop it off at the hospital."

"Yeah, sounds good." Stiles stood from the lawn chair and stretched, raising his arms above his head. "I could totally eat. It's been a long day."

Malia stared up at him, her mouth pursed. "What've you even _done_ today?"

"Hey, thinking up all this stuff was _exhausting_." He dug his keys out of his pocket. "So, what are we thinking? Burgers? Ooh, _tacos!_ "

As he walked off to the jeep, Malia pushed up from the grass and dusted herself off.

"Here." Scott handed her jacket to her.

"Thanks." She smiled as she pulled it on. "Your mom's really okay?"

"Just worried. She didn't really want me to leave the house today."

Malia nodded. "I get it. I feel like everybody I know has their parents breathing down their neck." She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "Makes sense. You could've died."

Scott glanced at the jeep, where Stiles was fiddling with the radio and drumming a hand against the steering wheel. "Malia… Where's your dad?"

She frowned. "I don't really know. I, uh… I haven't seen him since Monday."

" _Monday?_ " His eyes widened. "You mean, he hasn't stopped in at all? He hasn't even called?"

"No. We had that fight and he just… _left_ , I guess."

Scott took a deep breath. "Maybe we should tell someone."

She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. "Like who? Stiles' dad? If he finds out, he'll have to report it to social services." She shrugged. "Look, he's probably on a bender. He'll show up in a day or two and act like it never happened."

"What if this is different? What if something happened to him?" He stared at her searchingly. "With the Alpha—"

" _No_." She paused. "No way. He took off because we were fighting. Anyway, his work would've called if he didn't show up." She shook her head. "No, he's just doing his usual avoidance thing. He doesn't want to admit he messed up, so he waits until I cool off, and then he'll come home."

Scott stared at her. "One more day. If he doesn't show up by then, I'll go to the Sheriff."

Malia chewed the inside of her cheek. "Okay. Fine."

Nodding, he reached out and squeezed her arm.

 _HONK!_

They jumped and turned to see Stiles waving at them impatiently. " _Tacos!_ "

Snorting, Malia shook her head. "Come on. Now that it's in his head, it's not going anywhere."

Ducking his head as he laughed, Scott walked with her to the jeep.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Melissa greeted them with an exhausted sigh, her eyes wide with appreciation as she saw the bag Scott was holding up. "My hero!" She took the bag and grinned at him. "Tacos— that's different."

"Yeah, well." Scott shrugged. "Stiles had a craving."

She turned to Stiles. "So, I have _you_ to thank for this."

He shrugged with faux-modesty and smiled. "Didn't take much to order a little extra before we left. You know, for all the hard work you do around here."

"Uh-huh." Melissa's gaze bounced between them, but then paused on Malia. Her expression softened. "Hey, you."

Malia stared at her a beat. "Hey. Sorry I worried you."

Melissa shook her head. "Don't be sorry. I'm just glad you're okay." She stared at her searchingly. "You _are_ okay, right?"

Nodding, Malia assured her, "I am. Totally okay."

"Nothing I need to know about? No psychological damage you want to share? How are your stitches holding up? You want me to take a look?"

" _No!"_ both Scott and Stiles exclaimed.

Melissa looked at them, her brow furrowed.

"Ignore them. The salsa's gone to their heads." Malia waved dismissively. "My stitches are fine. I put a new bandage on a couple hours ago. And as for psychologically, I'm fine. I, uh, I didn't have the best sleep, but… It helped, having Scott and Stiles there. I know you were probably worried, but—"

"I was. I still am. For all of you." Melissa put the bag of food aside and reached out, inviting them in for a hug. "Come on, come here. Bring it in."

Scott grinned and hung an arm around his mother's shoulders as her own ringed his waist.

Malia didn't bother hesitating, moving forward to hug Melissa back.

And Stiles slung his arms around both Scott and Malia's shoulders, grinning at Melissa.

"What happened last night, that kind of trauma, it doesn't always hit you right away, okay? I know you guys all feel like you're doing okay, and I'm not going to argue different. I just want you to know that you have people, you have resources; we can help you if anything comes up." Melissa looked at each of them seriously. "I know it feels like we're suffocating you right now with all the phone calls and checking in, but that's just because we care."

"We know." Scott nodded at her. "And we appreciate it."

Melissa smiled up at him. "All right. Go, get out of here." She rubbed Scott and Malia's backs quickly before she let them go. "I don't know how late I'm going to be here. Things are busy and we're waiting to see if who we have scheduled actually shows up. If it's another double, I might not be back until the morning. So just… Keep the doors and windows locked. Don't go out alone. Don't answer the door and—"

"Mom." Scott caught her shoulders gently. "It's okay. We'll be okay."

Melissa let out an unsteady breath and nodded. "All right. Yeah."

"Enjoy your dinner." He let her go and nodded. "I'll text you later, okay?"

"I will. And thank you, guys. I needed this." She grabbed up her bag of food appreciatively before turning on her heel and walking away.

Scott stared after her a moment and then looked back at them. "So? What now?"

"Uh, my dad texted. He wants me home." Stiles shrugged. "Malia's place first?"

Malia nodded. "That works."

"Are you sure?" Scott frowned. "If your dad's not home…"

"It's not the first time I've been home alone." Malia shook her head. "I'll be fine. I'm also supernaturally strong now, remember?"

"Yeah." His lips pinched. "I just want you to be safe."

Stiles started back up toward the door. "Let's figure it out on the way."

Scott and Malia followed him out.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

By the time they reached her house, Scott still wasn't sure Malia staying home alone was the right thing to go. "I just think with the Alpha out there we should be more careful…"

"Scott, seriously." Malia sat forward and leaned in between the two front seats. "Even if my dad _was_ here, there's not a whole lot he could do against an Alpha. And, I should probably get used to it."

"To what?"

"Being on my own again." Chewing her lip, she shrugged. "I can't stay over at your place every time something goes wrong. If things continue the way they're going, I have a feeling they'll be wrong a lot more than right."

Scott frowned. "You could… I mean, mom doesn't mind you staying over."

"As long as _you_ stay on the couch. And that's not fair to you."

Stiles looked from Malia to Scott and back. "Not to rush you guys, but my dad might actually put me on house arrest if I'm not home soon. So… What are we doing?"

"You're taking Scott home." Malia pushed her door open. "I'll see you guys tomorrow." Hopping out, she closed the door and crossed the driveway, climbing the stairs to her dark porch.

"I know she'll be okay." Scott pitched his voice low, even though he knew that if Malia wanted to, she could hear him easily. "Physically, anyway."

Stiles stared ahead at the house, his brow furrowed. "You think she'll have another nightmare?"

"Maybe, yeah. But… It's not just that." He sighed. "All day, mom was texting me, your dad was texting you. She said the others were hearing from the parents a lot, too."

"That happens when you get locked in a school by some homicidal freak."

"Right. But no one was calling her. No one was checking in." Scott dragged his gaze from the dark and empty house and turned it on him. "Her dad took off and she has no idea when he'll come back… And she's out here, alone, after her whole life turned upside down, I— I'm just worried about her."

"Then stay."

Scott blinked. "What?"

"Malia doesn't want to go back to your place because she feels like she's putting you out, right? Then why don't you stay here? You can be home before your mom's off work. We both know she'll end up working that double, she always does. So, stay. Take care of her. And… you know, if the mood strikes, maybe you make a certain confession."

Scott rolled his eyes. "It's not about that."

"Oh, trust me. It's always about that." Stiles leaned back in his seat. "I know you're tired of hearing me say it, but… This doesn't have to be a bad thing. You two are more alike now than ever before. With the shifter thing added on top of things, you know a side of her that just about nobody can or will know. It's kind of perfect, actually."

"Except for the part where she's emotionally unstable right now." Scott looked back to the house, where the lights had flicked on. "I don't want to put any more pressure on her."

"All right, fine. No confession." Stiles rolled his eyes. "But you can still stay."

He chewed the inside of his cheek. "What if she doesn't want me to?"

Stiles waved a hand toward the house. "Look, you tell her you want to stay, if she kicks you out, I'll be right here. I can drive you home and it's no big deal. At least you'll know you tried. And if she lets you stay then… _Great_. She's not alone and you won't spend the whole night worrying."

Scott weighed his options a few seconds before eventually nodding. "All right, yeah. I can offer, but it's up to her."

"Cool." Stiles reached out and clapped his shoulder. "Go get 'er, Tiger."

Scott sent him a brief look and then pushed the jeep door open, hopping down to the ground. He crossed the distance quickly enough and then stood, hesitating in front of the front door. Raising a fist, he knocked before he could talk himself out of it. A few seconds passed before he heard the combined padding feet of Shiloh and Malia. And then the door swung open.

Shiloh immediately started sniffing his legs, her tail wagging cheerfully.

Malia stared at him, an eyebrow raised. "I'm not staying over."

"I know. Actually, I was wondering if I could stay here." He half-smiled. "Kind of eliminates the couch issue, right?"

She paused, her mouth parting. "Are you sure? You mom's not going to freak out?"

"Yeah, I… If you're okay with it, I'd like to stay. I'd rather be with you than… pretty much anywhere else."

"Pretty much?"

He ducked his head to hide a grin.

Malia pushed her door open wider. "Okay. You can stay."

Scott looked up, met her eyes, and then nodded. He looked back over his shoulder, to the jeep.

Stiles raised a hand in a wave and nodded, grinning back at him.

Headlights flashed then and the jeep pulled out of the driveway.

Walking into the house, Scott shrugged his jacket off.

"How's a movie and popcorn sound?"

He nodded. "Great."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After eating entirely too much popcorn, Malia was sprawled out on the couch, her feet in Scott's lap and her gaze on the television. Shiloh was curled up on the floor, snoring lightly, her head perched on her paws. Scott's arm rested across Malia's legs, the sleeve of his shirt pulled up, so his skin was warm and bare against her own. Briefly, she wondered when the last time she shaved was. "Hey, how prickly is it down there?"

Scott laughed, his chest shaking. He rubbed his arm against her legs. "You've been pricklier."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

He smiled. "Could be worse."

"How's that?"

"Last night you had a full coat."

Eyes narrowing, she pulled her leg back and shoved her heel down against his thigh.

" _Ow_." He laughed, caught her ankle and tugged, straightening her leg out again. "All right. Sorry."

"Anyway, I bet I had soft fur."

He nodded. "You did."

She paused. "Was it weird for you…? Seeing me like that."

His gaze fell for a moment and then moved to meet hers. "Not weird. Just… I was worried. I wasn't sure what you were thinking or if you were okay. I remembered you chasing the Alpha out, before I… I changed."

"It was controlling you. Anything you did after it roared, that wasn't your fault."

"I don't know how much I'd believe that if I did hurt someone… At some point, I have to take responsibility, right?" He shook his head. "I got control back and I stopped myself, which means that I _can_. That anything I do after this, it's on me."

"I'm not sure it works like that." Drawing her legs back, she folded them under her and sat up. "When I was the coyote, she wanted to do things I never would've done. She… She wanted to live in the woods and build a den and…" She snorted. "She thought that's what was best for us, you know? That it would keep me safe that way."

"The wolf, the _animal_ that I turned into, all it wanted was to hurt. To _kill_. Stiles, Allison, Lydia, Jackson— it wanted them dead."

"But you stopped."

"Yeah, I did. But what if I hadn't?"

"I don't think that's possible."

He stared at her. "Why?"

"The Alpha changed you. It forced you to do something you would never do. And even though you're still learning how to control the shift, even though you had almost no control over your thinking or what you were doing, you still stopped."

"Because I heard Stiles."

"Because you _cared_." Malia reached for him. "You heard the voice of someone you love, someone you consider family, and it was like hitting an override switch. You took your control back because some part of you— deep, _deep_ down— knew that it wasn't you. It's not something you would or _could_ do. So, you stopped."

"So did you."

Malia's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You were chasing the Alpha, but you knew Derek was hurt. You smelled his blood and you went back for him. You, the coyote, _whichever_ — you gave up the Alpha because someone you cared about needed help."

Malia swallowed tightly. "Yeah. Maybe."

Scott licked his lips. "Hey, uh, this is gonna sound dumb, but… When we were in the school and you called Allison…"

"Yeah."

"Why'd you ask to talk to Stiles and not… not me?"

Malia stared at him searchingly, her brow furrowed. "I guess it was because Stiles has been helping me pull everything together. Ever since you were turned, we've been trying to figure out how it all works and making plans to help you. It wasn't that I didn't think you could. I know you can. I guess I just expected Stiles to already kind of have a plan, so I wanted to make sure we were on the same page."

"Yeah. That makes sense."

"Scott…" She rubbed her thumbs over the top of his hand. "I wanted to talk to you. And when I saw you later, when the Alpha was hurting you, I…"

"I know." He nodded. "It was the same for me. I didn't know where you were and I couldn't focus until I did."

"Look, in future, we're a team," she decided. "All of us. Which means we all plan and we all get to decide. That way no one's left out and everyone gets a say."

"I like that."

"Me, too." She yawned then and reached for the remote. "It's been a long day. I'm ready for bed. You?"

"Yeah. After getting my ass kicked, I think I could definitely sleep."

Snorting, Malia turned off the movie and stood from the couch. "You just have to learn not to hesitate."

Scott followed her down the hall to her bedroom. "You think I was hesitating?"

"I think you were worried you'd hurt me."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"In general, no." As her bedroom door closed behind them, she turned on her heel to face him. "But if we're really going to learn how to do this, then we have to trust each other. You have to believe I'm just as strong as you are—"

"I know you are."

"Then trust I'll block a hit or duck it or that I'll hit you back just as hard." She stared at him. "I'm not going to break."

"It's not about that. I know you can fight." His brow furrowed. "It's not a gender thing, either. I just… I never want to hurt you. Even if it's not serious."

"But it could be. You're the only one I can train with. The only one I know can match me. So, if I plan on learning how to do this, and I do, then I need you to push just as hard as I do. I don't know what the Alpha is going to do or how we're going to stop it, but if we want to stay alive and keep the people around us safe, then I think we need to push those boundaries. I think we need to embrace this. And I want us to do that together."

Scott swallowed tightly. "I'm scared that if I let go, if I embrace it completely, I'm not gonna know who I am when I do."

"Exactly who you've always been, just… faster and stronger." She shrugged. "We're not fighting to hurt people, not even the Alpha. We're fighting because we have to. Because if we don't, the Alpha will keep hurting and killing and we have the ability to stop them." She stepped closer then and pressed a hand to his chest, flat over his heart. "I know who you are and nothing will ever change that."

Scott nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow, I won't pull my punches. I… I'll fight for real."

She grinned. "Good."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After showering, changing her bandages, and pulling on some pajamas, Malia left her bathroom to find Scott sitting in her bed. He was wearing a pair of sweat pants she'd borrowed from him in the past, and nothing else. Bare, brown skin was on display. When she swallowed, her throat was especially dry, and she felt something warm and heavy settle deep in her gut. Lingering in the doorway to her bathroom, she tried to shake it off. Turning the light out, she padded across the floor and circled her bed.

He watched her, his phone resting in his lap. "My, uh, my mom has a double. She's not gonna be home until tomorrow."

"Oh." Malia pulled the blanket up on her side of the bed and climbed in.

He put his phone on the end table next to him. "How was today? With Allison and everyone?"

"Great." She nodded. "Except they don't seem to think Derek's the killer. Erica's kind of in detective mode; I think that's how she's dealing with everything."

He hummed. "Yeah, I'm not sure she likes me much."

"She's kind of prickly in the beginning, but she warms up. Kids at school aren't exactly nice to her."

Scott nodded. "You guys are getting close."

"Closer than I expected. But I can probably say that about almost everybody I'm friends with these days."

Scott smiled. "They seem like good people."

"Yeah?"

"Danny's a nice guy. We're not really friends, but I know that much. And Erica, she was really worried about you. Suspicious, but worried."

Malia sighed. "I don't know how I'm going to get them to forget all about this mess and leave it alone."

"You think they'll figure it out?"

"Somehow, I don't think werewolves are going to be their go-to answer" She frowned. "But I don't want them doing anything that might get them hurt. And digging into everything with the Alpha probably will."

"Maybe it'll just take some time. Something else will happen and they'll get distracted."

"Maybe." She laid down and tucked an arm behind her head. "Danny's having a party on Saturday, he asked me to come."

"Yeah?" Scott shuffled down the bed too and stared at the ceiling. "Are you gonna go?"

"Yeah, probably." She bit her lip. "You should come."

He turned to look at her, his brows arched. "That'd be okay?"

She smiled. "You're not a pariah, Scott. You made first string. You'll probably be invited to plenty of parties."

"Yeah, but… I mean, Danny's _your_ friend, so…"

"He said I could invite you." She paused. "Allison's coming, too."

Scott's gaze fell. "Did I tell you Allison and I are over?"

Malia's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Yeah, uh… Yesterday, at the school, she said we were better off as friends."

"Wow. Talk about timing."

"She was right, I think."

"Really?" Malia frowned. "But, you were so into her."

"I did like her. I mean, I _do_. But I think we'll make good friends."

"Are you sure?" She turned over onto her side to face him. "You're not heartbroken or something?"

His lips quirked. "Not really, no."

"I guess I thought it was kind of serious."

"We were mostly friends-with-benefits near the end…" He shrugged. "I don't know if I'm cut out for that."

"What? Friends-with-benefits?"

"Yeah, I…" He sighed. "I want more than that. I don't just want benefits. I want… a partner."

"Scott McCall, secret romantic."

He rolled his eyes. "Hardly."

Propping her head up on her hand, she stared at his profile. "You'd make a good partner."

He turned to look at her, his expression doubtful. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Definitely."

He licked his lips. "Thanks. Uh, you would, too."

Malia snorted. "No, I really wouldn't."

"Why?"

"Because I..." She took a deep breath, shook her head, and let it out on a sigh. "I'm _me_."

"Yeah. I know." He stared at her. "Which is why I know I'm right."

"Scott..."

Propping his own head up, his gazed at her a moment, hair falling across his forehead. "Look, uh... I should've said something before and I don't really know why I didn't. I guess I panicked, so I just..." He blew out a sigh. "This is gonna seem really dumb in retrospect."

Malia's brow furrowed. For some reason, her heart was beating a little too quick. Maybe it was just Stiles' hinting from earlier, but Scott's words seemed heavy with something. "What is it?"

He stared at her searchingly. "I, uh... _You_..."

She waited, her complete lack of patience practically bursting at the seams. Until, finally—

"You're my anchor!"

Malia blinked. "I... What?"

Scott winced. "I told you it was my mom because, well, I'm not sure. I thought maybe it would weird you out or something. But, the truth is, I think you were always my anchor. Because you've been here for me the whole time. You got me through my first shift and you're just... You're always there, no matter how hard things get. So, when Derek said I had to pick something or someone that made me feel safe, it was just really obvious. Not that my mom doesn't, she does. But she also doesn't know about any of this." He met her eyes briefly and then his gaze moved to her shoulder. "I don't think you've ever really seen yourself the way I do. Even when we were ten years old, you were so fearless and strong and... I always admired that about you. I— I wanted to be just like you. And when we became friends, I felt like I was. You have this way of making everyone around you feel like they can do anything." He shook his head. "I'm a better person because I know you."

"Scott, you're basically the best person I know."

"Well, maybe that's because I have you." Taking a deep breath, he searched her eyes. "I just, I want you to know that when I feel weak or scared o-or lost, I think of you and I... I know who I am and what I'm doing and... I know I'll be okay."

Her heart squeezed in her chest and she nodded unsteadily.

"Uh..." He shook his head and smiled awkwardly. "We should probably sleep, so we can be our best when we train tomorrow."

"Yeah. That makes sense."

Scott turned over onto his back then and reached for the lamp on the bedside table. The room was flush with darkness then, the house unnaturally quiet outside of Shiloh's snoring and their heartbeats.

Malia shifted around, chewing on her lip for a good, long minute. "Scott...?"

"Hm?"

"In the woods, when I was freaking out and you calmed me down..." She stared at the blue-lit ceiling. "I think I'm still figuring the whole anchor thing out, but... I felt safe with you. And I don't just think it's because we're both shifters and I wouldn't be able to hurt you as bad as like, Stiles or something. It was just... It was like the rest of the world just kind of stopped. All the noise and the smells and even my anger. Everything went away and there was just you and... You've always been this stable part of my life, you know? I think I've always kind of been scared that I'd lose everything again, everyone I loved. But... you've always been there and I like to think you always will." Her throat burned as emotion swelled. "I know that's corny and emotional and whatever, but... I was falling apart and you held me together and... You do that a lot. You kind of always have my back."

"You have mine, too."

"Yeah, well, I guess we're a good fit that way."

The blankets moved then and Malia felt the warmth of his arm against her own, a beat before she felt the tips of his fingers climb her palm. His thumb dragged along hers as their fingers met and twined. "So... We'll anchor each other then. Through everything."

Malia bit her lip to hide a growing smile and hoped he couldn't hear how loud and unsteady her heart had grown. "Yeah. That works for me."

Scott squeezed her hand and Malia squeezed back.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _sorry for the longer wait. to be completely honest, i ran into some writer's block. i noticed a pretty big decrease in reviews for last chapter and since i was already feeling kind of iffy about it, i guess my motivation just kind of plummeted. i got about halfway through this chapter before i got stuck and spent a good five days only writing a paragraph or two and not really feeling good about it. and then, yesterday, i really settled in and started writing again. and i'm happy with it, so i hope you are, too._

 _there's probably only going to be one more interlude-esque chapter, maybe even half a chapter, before we move into the next episode. i was just looking at the timeline and noticed there was a few days unaccounted for in the show and given what happened to malia i felt like it gave me some time to really explore that change and what it means for each group she's a part of. so i hope these interludes are enjoyable, as i feel like they help piece apart how everyone is growing and dealing with the fallout of the school attack._

 _and finally, i tried my best to edit this, but i've read it so many freaking times at this point that i feel like my eyes gloss over and i'm probably missing some really obvious errors. so if you see them, let me know and i will do my best to fix them asap!_

 **things to look forward to next chapter** : _more scalia training and some lines start to blur; cole makes an appearance; we find out what's going on with malia's dad; and malia has a curious dream._

 _thanks for reading. please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	22. interlude 3

**word count** : 16,600  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : between 1x07 and 1x08

* * *

 **XXII**

Malia could feel the sun warming her cheek and was caught between wanting to turn her head to meet it and bury it against the surprisingly warm pillow her face was pressed against. She gave in to the second urge. Her nose pressed flat until her mouth kissed... _not fabric_. Brow furrowed in confusion, Malia slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the brightness of her room. She was almost too close to see what it was she was up against, and then it abruptly hit her. Her vision focused and it became all too clear that she was face-planted into Scott's very bare, very warm, strangely soft chest. He was laying on his side and so was she, but somehow, she'd managed to wiggle down the bed and smoosh her face right up against him. Her arm was slung over his waist too, while the other was curled up under her head. Leaning back a little, she darted her gaze upward, to see if he was awake and aware of what she'd done in her sleep. Thankfully, he wasn't. Snoring faintly, he had an arm tucked under his pillow while the other... hung behind him. In fact, she realized her fingers were tangled with his, their hands dangling loosely.

Maybe it was just the heat he gave off and she'd naturally gravitated toward it. Lately, he seemed to be running warmer than usual. Maybe it was a werewolf thing. In any case, she should put some space between them. If he woke up, this positioning looked, uh, well, _intimate_. And as much as she knew these sleepovers couldn't become a long-term thing, she liked them, and she didn't want them to end because her sleeping-self thought it was cool to cross personal boundaries.

He looked peaceful, though. His face relaxed and his shaggy hair falling loose against his cheeks. Ruffled but content. Like all the pressure they were facing outside of this bed, this room, this house, just didn't exist. It did, of course, and it would come calling just as soon as they let their guard down. But for a few seconds, she could almost pretend that life was just this easy, this peaceful.

And then Shiloh started nosing around Malia's feet; a sign that she knew Malia was up and wanted attention. Deciding it was a good excuse to stop lingering, Malia carefully untangled her hand from Scott's and rolled herself off the bed. She didn't bother waking him up. Instead, she pulled the blanket up to his shoulders and waved at Shiloh to follow her, quietly closing the door behind her as they left.

After taking Shiloh out to pee, Malia see-sawed between needing a shower and making breakfast. Standing in the hall just outside of Kylie's room, she weighed the pros and cons. Cooking meant that Scott could sleep a little longer, while showering might wake him up, seeing as her bathroom was an extension off the bedroom. While Scott didn't often admit to being extra tired lately, she knew it had to be getting to him. Life had become so chaotic, there was no way he was getting enough sleep. Especially with her around, taking up half his bed.

 _Breakfast it is_.

Just as she was about to turn on her heel and return to the front of the house, she paused. The door to Kylie's room was cracked open. Not by a lot, but by enough to be strange. She was the only one that ever went in there and even that was on rare occasions. Her dad never went in. Then again, she wondered if maybe their fight on Tuesday had prompted a visit. But she would've noticed, wouldn't she? If the door had been open then. Or maybe not; she hadn't exactly been in the best frame of mind lately.

Reaching for the handle, she pushed it open gently, and stepped inside, her gaze sweeping curiously from one end of the room to the other. It looked just as empty as ever. She wasn't sure what she was expecting. Like her dad was going to leave a letter explaining where he was and why. But then she spotted something on the end table— a lumpy, cat-like, salt shaker.

 _Derek_.

Malia crossed toward it in two long strides and plucked it up. Underneath was a receipt with a phone number on it.

Malia's heart lurched.

A part of her wanted to wad the paper up into a ball and throw it away, purely out of anger. But another part of her wanted to memorize every digit and reach out immediately. She had questions, sure. But it was more than that. Much as she didn't want to be, she was worried about him.

At some point, Derek had managed to make it back to her house and leave her this message, unseen and with no noticeable trace. Was it while she was running wild in the woods as a coyote? Or maybe yesterday, after training, when they went out for dinner and brought Melissa take-out. Or he could be even better at sneaking than she thought, and he'd somehow gotten into the house while they were all right there— while she was having a nightmare and the boys were trying to comfort her or last night, when she used Scott as her personal body pillow. Regardless of _when_ Derek had been there, he had been, which meant he was still okay. _Probably_.

Taking the receipt with her, Malia left Kylie's room, closing the door and making her way to the kitchen. She needed to process and decide what, exactly, she wanted to do.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Scott woke slowly. The sun was prickling at his closed eyes and he instinctively squeezed them tighter. Sighing, he considered rolling over and burying his face in his pillow for a few more minutes. But then, the smell of something cooking caught his nose and his stomach rumbled. Food sounded even better than sleep right now. Pulling his hand out from under his pillow, he scrubbed it over his face. Groaning, he reached his feet out toward the end of the bed and felt his whole body stretch in the best way. And then padding feet could be heard coming in his direction. Wildflowers wafted toward him and his mouth curled at one corner.

"Hey, sleepyhead. Breakfast is almost ready."

Scott didn't get up. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, letting it out on a sleepy hum.

"Don't make me jump on you."

Smothering a smile, he shook his head. While he'd been more than willing to get up before she got there, now that she was here, frustrating her sounded like more fun. "Five more minutes."

"How about one more minute?"

Scott wasn't even kind of surprised when she abruptly steam-rolled over him and landed in a heap on the mattress next to him. He cracked an eye open to look at her. Still in her pajamas, she had her hair tied up in a lopsided knot, pieces falling across her cheeks. And maybe it was him, maybe it was a sleep-fogged brain that thought it, but she looked _lighter_ than she had yesterday. Not as burdened by the intensity of everything that was changing. There was just something about the color in her cheeks and the way she was looking at him, her body loose and comfortable, that could almost convince him that nothing had changed. They were still the same people they had always been.

"Are you spending my one minute watching me?"

Her lips twitched. "You've probably only got like, twenty seconds left anyway."

He hummed. "What'd you make?"

"Scrambled eggs and toast. I was gonna make bacon too, but judging by the smell of it..." Her nose scrunched up. "You wouldn't want to eat it."

He chuckled under his breath. "I'll take your word for it."

"I had to wrap it in two bags and take it to the garbage can outside. I don't know if that's just how bad it was or if my nose is _that_ sensitive now, but yeah... It needed to go."

"Eggs are good."

"They better be. The only other thing I have to eat right now is probably cereal. And I'm almost out of milk, so..." She shrugged. "Anyway, you should get up. We'll eat and shower and then we can get straight to training. I texted Stiles; he's gonna drop by later."

"Training. Right."

"Yup." She hopped off the bed then and walked to the door, pointing back at him seriously. "Don't expect me to go easy on you, either."

He grinned. "I don't."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

While nibbling on her third piece of toast, Malia stared down at her phone. Specifically, at a text from Cole— ' _hey, I guess something came up last night...? rain check?'_

Scott stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing off his plate and fork. "Did something happen?"

"Hm?"

"You're frowning at your phone."

"Oh. Uh... No. Not exactly." She shrugged. "It's Cole. We were supposed to get together last night and I forgot."

Scott paused. "Oh."

"Yeah..." Her brow furrowed. "I'm sure he knows something happened at the school, but he doesn't know I was involved. And this is the second time we were supposed to hang out when something Alpha-related got in the way... I kind of feel bad."

Drying his hands on a towel, Scott leaned back against the counter. "Because you're not with him?"

"It's not..." She tried to find the right words for it. "It's different with Cole."

Scott stared at her a beat. "Good different?"

Sighing, Malia put her phone down on the table and shifted in her seat to face him better. "I like Cole, a lot. I'm just not sure how I feel is the same way that _he_ feels. You know?"

He searched her face and nodded. "Yeah, I get it."

"When he's not around, I just kind of forget he exists. Which sounds _awful_ , I know. But... I mean, that's normal, right? If it's just a people-with-benefits kind of thing. It's okay that I don't have a big attachment to him."

Scott drummed his fingers against the counter. "Do you want to have an attachment?"

"To Cole?" She shook her head. "No. I mean, I wouldn't say no to friendship. And he's a great make-out partner. But I don't really want anything more than that."

"If he knows that, then I think it's okay."

"Yeah?"

Scott nodded. "If you're happy with what you do have, then do that."

Malia chewed her lip. "Sometimes I think he isn't. Ever since the first attack, at the video store, it kind of felt like something changed. But maybe I just _think_ that's happening." She groaned. "I don't know."

"You could just _ask_ him."

She stared at him flatly. "Don't make it sound easy. It's not easy."

His mouth twitched faintly. "Maybe it is."

Rolling her eyes, she stood and grabbed her phone up. "I'm going to shower. And then I'm going to call Cole and... figure this junk out."

Scott nodded. "Okay."

Grabbing up the last chunk of her now cold toast, she shoved it in her mouth and walked away, padding down the hall to her bedroom.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Sitting on the edge of her bed, fresh from the shower, her hair still dripping, Malia frowned at her phone. Specifically, at Cole's last text. It was simple and understanding and there was no noticeable frustration or accusation there. He was just ready and willing to let it go and move forward. Which would be oh so easy. And that was the appeal, wasn't it? While everything else was up and down, Cole was just a stationary figure in her life that she could pick up whenever she felt like it. He wasn't affected by what was going on. He was a free agent, unbothered by life's drama and trauma.

Instead of texting, she found her thumb hovering over his name, until finally, she pressed it. Her stomach twisted up in knots as she waited for him to answer.

 _Click_. "Hey..." Cole paused. "Can't say I was expecting a phone call. You struck me as more of a texter."

She snorted. "You wouldn't be wrong."

He hummed. "Is this a serious phone call then?"

"No, no..." She picked at a loose thread on her blanket. "I just realized it's been a while. We haven't really seen each other or talked."

"I saw you Monday... or was it Tuesday...? I don't know, this whole week's been weird. But, I was hoping to see you last night."

"Yeah." She closed her eyes and winced. "Last night wasn't the best for me..."

"No?"

"No. But I don't want to get into it right now. Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to cash that rain check in for tonight? I know it's short notice, but—"

"Tonight works."

She blinked. "Oh. Okay, uh, great. Meet me at Rosie's Diner, around 6?"

"I'll be there."

After a quick goodbye, Malia hung up, sighed, and put her phone on her end table. She stood from her bed and moved to her dresser, grabbing up her brush and a hair elastic. Scraping her hair up into a ponytail, she tied it off, and then made her way out of her room. Scott was wrestling with Shiloh in the living room, nearly knocking over the coffee table in the process.

"Hey."

He looked up, grinning. "Hey."

"You showered."

Sitting up, he pulled Shiloh into his lap and rubbed her belly. "Yeah, well, you do have two bathrooms. Figured it would save us some time. I called my mom, too. I told her I left early and I was hanging out with you and Stiles. That way she's not surprised when she gets home and I'm not there."

"Smart."

He shrugged. "How's Cole?"

"Fine. We're getting together tonight."

Scott nodded, his gaze falling to Shiloh as he scrubbed her ears.

"So, you wanna start off with a run?" She put her hands on her hips. "We can follow the trails, climb to the lookout, and then come back."

Scott looked up at her. "Is this just so you can show off how much faster you are than me?"

She laughed. "It doesn't have to be a race. But it'll get our blood flowing and I like to start my day off with a run. I feel like I haven't been able to lately, with how crazy things have been. It'll be nice to do something normal."

Carefully shifting Shiloh out of his lap, Scott stood. "Sure. We can do that."

"Great." She grinned then. "Race you to the path!"

Malia darted for the door, laughing at Scott's huffy, " _Hey!_ "

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia could have run faster, but she was keeping her pace steady and not unnaturally quick. There were other people on the paths, jogging and running, and while she and Scott passed each of them, they weren't doing it in a way that would cause too much attention. To the others, they probably just looked like young athletes pushing their limitations. A part of Malia wanted to speed up and show off, but another part of her liked that she and Scott were running neck and neck. They couldn't do this before. His lungs were so bad that any kind of strenuous behaviour could result in a severe asthma attack. Now, he was running like he always had. And he looked good. He looked _happy_. A smile spread across his mouth, his arms pumping at his sides; there was unrestrained freedom there.

When they reached the peak of the hill overlooking the town below, they came to a stop just short of the wooden barrier. Malia put her hands on her hips and stretched her back, twisting at the waist a few times to loosen up. "Well?"

Scott nodded, his face pleasantly flushed. "It was good. I can see why you do it."

She grinned. "Now that you can keep up, we should do it more. We can make it like a weekly thing or something."

Scott smiled. "I'd like that."

Making her way over to one of the stump posts that made up the barrier, Malia took a seat on it, her back to the view, unworried about the steep fall behind her. "This is where Derek confronted me that one time."

"Yeah?" He walked toward her, his hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie. When he stopped, his knees were nearly bumping hers. It occurred to her that most of the clothes he was wearing were the same that she had borrowed from him over the years and never returned. "You're worried about him."

"I'm _mad_ at him, but... yeah." The phone number Derek had left her came to mind then and the weight of knowing it and not sharing it with Scott suddenly pulled at her. Taking a deep breath, she said, "He was at the house."

Scott's brow furrowed. "What? When?"

"I don't know. I just know he was there... We have a system, kind of. He always leaves this ugly little cat salt shaker in Kylie's room. Sometimes there's a note that just says 'thanks.' This time there was a phone number."

Scott's eyes widened. "So, he's okay... and he's reaching out."

"Yeah, maybe. I'm not sure when he left the note." She shrugged. "Maybe something happened since."

"But you didn't call." He stared at her searchingly. "Because if he doesn't answer..."

"Yeah, that. Plus, I'm... _angry_ at him." She shook her head. "I mean, he knew. I don't know how, but he did. And he... He kept that from me."

"Maybe he didn't want to freak you out."

Malia rolled her eyes. "My best friend is a werewolf. I think I could've handled it."

"Maybe he wasn't sure." Scott shrugged. "Or maybe he thought you needed to find out on your own. I don't know. I can't tell you how Derek thinks. But I know _you_. And I know that he matters to you and you're worried about him. So... I think you should call. Pick a day to meet up, find out what he knows." He crouched down then, arms stacked atop her knees, and looked up at her gently. "If you still wanna kick his ass, I'll come along for moral support."

She laughed and bit her lip to hide a grin. " _Thanks_."

He nodded. "You're welcome."

Sighing, she said, "All right. We should head back. The only one I plan to beat up _today_ is you..."

Grinning, Scott stood and held his hands out to her. When she took them, he pulled her to her feet and then started backing up toward the path. "We'll see."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

They found a clearing to practice in. It wasn't far from Malia's house, but it was shrouded and far enough away from the paths that not just anybody would stumble upon them. But, as much as Scott was comfortable wrestling with her dog, actually taking Malia on as an opponent seemed hopeless.

"You're hesitating."

Scott grimaced. "Because I don't know what I'm doing!"

"Because you're overthinking it." Her brows arched. "Don't look at me like I'm Malia or your friend. Look at me like I'm someone who might seriously hurt you if you don't stop me."

He frowned. "How am I supposed to look at you and not see you?"

"Okay, different strategy." Malia walked a circle around him, kicking absently at the dirt. "Maybe it's not about saving yourself. Maybe it's about saving someone else."

"That still doesn't eliminate the part where you're _you_ and I can't hurt you." Scott shrugged unapologetically. "Unless you've got a Halloween mask laying around somewhere."

"If Stiles was here, he'd tell you to pretend I was an evil clone of myself."

Scott snorted. "I'd probably just try to reason with them. If they're a clone of you, there's gotta be something good in them."

Malia paused and turned to look at him searchingly. "You would, wouldn't you?"

Scott shrugged, not looking the least bit apologetic.

"Okay." She took a deep breath. "New _new_ strategy... You're not trying to hurt me, just subdue me."

His gaze darted to the side. "Okay. I can do that... _probably_."

She nodded. "I'm going to run at you and I want you to find a way to pin me down. You don't have to hit me or throw me. You just need to find a way to keep me down."

Scott hesitated a beat, but eventually said, with some certainty, "Okay."

Malia rocked back on her heels and then launched herself forward. She was expecting Scott to meet her half-way. To grab her around the waist and bring her to the ground. To pin her arms to her chest and try to immobilize her. Instead, he took the hit. She barreled straight into his chest and he flew back, landing hard on the ground with a grunt. Ready to ask him what the hell kind of plan that was, she was surprised to feel his arms wrap around her, hugging her to his chest, his arms locked in place and his legs wound around hers to keep them from moving, too.

She blinked. "Are you bear hugging me into submission?"

His eyes widened. "It was the only thing I could think of that wouldn't be rough."

Malia let out a stunned laugh and dropped her face to his chest. Her whole body shook as her laughter increased. And when she looked up, Scott was smiling at her, his eyes soft. "You're such a dork," she muttered.

"It worked, didn't it?"

"On me, yeah. But if you were a real threat and we were fighting..." She pressed her fingers against his ribs and he flinched both at the tickling sensation and the sudden pressure. "There are ways to still hurt you. You're too vulnerable like this."

His arms loosened and Malia sat up, drawing her legs up to plant her knees in the dirt while she sat on his stomach. "When you fought the alpha, you were fast. You never stopped moving and that made you a harder target to attack. You didn't hesitate to kick and claw and attack. And that's how you're going to have to do it. It doesn't mean you have to go for the throat. But as much as I like your bear hugs, I don't think the Alpha will."

Scott sighed. He reached back and tucked his arms under his head. "Maybe we can start smaller."

"Like what?"

"Like..." His brows pinched together. "Reflexes? When we started out with Stiles, it was with a swipe and I ducked it. So, let's start there. Maybe instinct will kick in and I'll learn how to swipe back."

"Okay. We can start there and then I'll show you some other moves."

"Like that leg sweep thing? That was cool."

Malia nodded. "Sure. And it doesn't all have to be attack stuff, either. I mean, when you're on the lacrosse field and you're dodging people and flipping over them, that stuff helps, too. You already know how to do that, you just need to figure out how to use it."

"So, running away is still an option."

She snorted. "Depending on the enemy, yeah. For sure."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Scott and Malia spent a good hour working on their reflexes; from dodging a hit to the leg sweep. Some of it, Malia just modeled and Scott mirrored. While other things, they tried against each other. Scott wasn't comfortable trying to hit her, but he was okay with ducking anything she had to throw at him. The more they practiced, the better they got at it.

"I can't tell if we're fast learners or if it's because we're shifters."

"I'm leaning more toward shifter." Scott shook his head. "I was never this quick."

He had a point. Much as Scott tried, his asthma tended to hold him back. He was doing a lot better. Much as she knew he would gladly relinquish his new abilities just to be human again, there were undeniable upsides to it. At least if they embraced it. That's what she was trying to do. She wanted to see the positives in this new change. That didn't mean she wasn't fully aware of the downsides— turning into a coyote and possibly never turning back being the biggest one— but if this was her new normal, then she wanted to know everything she could. And she wanted to test herself in every way.

Malia made her way over so she was standing directly across from Scott. "I want to try something else."

"Like what?"

"Well, fighting is kind of like a dance, right?"

Scott's brow furrowed, not quite comprehending.

"When you're dancing with someone, you anticipate their moves and you take cues from their body language. So, if I move forward..." She stepped toward him.

Scott stared at her, now just inches away. "Was I supposed to step back?"

"I forgot you suck at dancing." Suddenly aware of just how close they were, her gaze flickered to his mouth and then back. Trying to shake it off, she reached for him and brought his hands to her hips. "When I move, you move." Her own hands fell to his shoulders, where she squeezed just a second before she took a step forward with her right foot. He did step back, but with the wrong foot.

Wincing, he said, "I wasn't sure which foot..."

"I need you to _feel_ it." She stared at him. "Feel my body as it moves, and you'll know which way I'm going."

He nodded slowly and Malia felt his fingers tighten against her.

She took a step forward.

Scott stepped back too, a little awkwardly but the right foot this time.

"Okay, now try to feel which way my body is leaning."

Scott's gaze fell and his fingers flexed against her hips. "Left... Right... Right... Forward?"

She smiled. "Yep. Now do it again and lean with me."

Scott nodded.

Together, they moved right, right, left, right, and—

As Malia leaned forward, so did Scott, until they were so close, their noses were bumping.

"Uhh..." Scott's eyes widened. "Sorry."

"It's fine." She rubbed his shoulders. "Let's do it again."

 _Right. Left. Right. Right. Lean_.

"You got it!"

He nodded. "One more time?"

They tried it again and again and suddenly, Malia realized they were just dancing circles around the forest. Spinning and moving completely in sync. It didn't feel like she was teaching him anything anymore. It just felt like they'd gotten caught up in a moment. When they got a little too close to a low-hanging branch, her hand darted up and hooked around the nape of his neck, tugging gently. Smiling, he ducked to avoid it. Instead of returning to his shoulder, she left her hand where it was, his hair gently brushing against her skin.

"Hey, even if it doesn't help me with fighting, I'll be a pretty good dancer for winter formal."

Malia snorted.

Scott stared at her a beat and then his expressed turned somber. "Not that I'm complaining about any of this, but... do you think we'll end up fighting a lot?"

Malia felt a weight settle low in her stomach. "I don't think the Alpha's gonna stop on their own. And I'm not sure there's anybody else strong enough to stop them."

"Than us?"

"You, me, Derek." She nodded. "We're kind of the only ones around that know what's happening and can do something."

"What about the Argents?"

"We can't trust them." She rolled her eyes. "I mean, I trust Allison. But..."

"Yeah. I know." Scott sighed. "It's just not how I saw things going, y'know? I just wanted to play lacrosse."

"I know." She smiled. "Look on the bright side, though. You're first string, you can run marathons, pick up trucks, sniff out coyotes, and... save the town from some pyscho murdering furball."

He snorted. "I could probably do without most of that."

"Yeah, but I'm kind of glad I'm not the only shifter around. Which is... _totally_ selfish, but..."

"No, I get it." He bit his lip. "I mean, there was Derek, but it was different. I still felt alone. And now... I don't." He stared down at her a moment. "I'm glad we're doing this together."

"Me, too."

They slowed to a stop then, inches apart. Scott's hand had drifted to the small of her back and Malia's had slid down his arm. It was intimate. An embrace that felt far from just friendly. She could hear his heart beating hard in her ears, or maybe it was her own. Her hand felt almost too warm, pressed against his neck, like the weight of it resting there was obvious.

"Why were we dancing again?"

"So we'd know how to mirror opponents or each other. If you know how my body moves, you can anticipate what I'll do in a fight."

"Yeah, I like how your body moves." He blinked. " _Uhhh_ … I mean, you're good at this and I'm learning a lot."

Malia nodded. "It's a nice break from punching you in the face, huh?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "That was _one_ time!"

"You ducked the three before it."

"I got distracted!" His face flushed. "Anyway, I think my nose healed."

Chuckling to herself, Malia brought her hand up and tenderly poked at his nose. "Does it hurt?"

"A little."

" _Baby."_

Not the least bit offended, Scott merely smiled. "Why don't we test these mirroring skills out?"

"You're on."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

They were definitely learning faster. As much as Scott tended not to hit back, he was ducking and avoiding every punch and kick Malia threw. When she advanced, he pulled back. When she went low, he leapt high. It was another kind of dance, in its own way. Maybe it was the increased awareness that they were faster, stronger, and more balanced than ever before. There was less fear of bending or breaking something, because their reflexes were so quick to make up for any mistakes.

Malia circled him, out of breath but eager to keep fighting. She felt energized and she wanted to take advantage of it. "You need to give me something to work with. I can't be the only one throwing punches."

Scott winced. "I know…"

"Even if you hit me, I'll heal."

He nodded, his brow furrowed.

"You don't look so sure about that."

His gaze darted downward, to her injured side. "Are you healed yet? Fully, I mean."

Malia nodded. "Yeah, basically. I checked this morning and even the Alpha wounds are almost totally gone."

"Almost?"

Malia sighed. "It doesn't hurt. There's some bruising left, but it's almost completely healed."

Scott clenched his teeth. "Okay."

She paused. "Okay?"

"Yeah. I… You were right. You're training, too. You need to know what your limits are… if you even have any."

She snorted. "I'm sure I do."

He half-smiled. "So, let's find out then."

Malia turned to face him better. "Do your worst."

Scott seemed to psych himself up, bouncing back on his heels, his hands flexing before they folded into fists. And then he lunged at her. Instead of pausing or doubting himself like he usually did, he kept coming, and she didn't move. She could see the flash of surprise cross his face as he barreled into her, his arms around her waist as he tackled her to the ground. As they fell, she took the brunt of his weight, and landed hard on her back.

Scrambling to sit up, he stared down at her worriedly. "What was that? You didn't even fight back!"

Getting her elbows under her, she leaned up. "I was taking a page out of your book. Look, no broken bones, no serious wounds, nothing." She raised her eyebrows. "I'm not going to break."

Sighing, he sat back. "All right. Point made."

"Good." Malia pulled her legs up, crossed them under his stomach, and slammed him back against the ground.

" _Oof_."

Grinning, she untangled herself and stood up. "Come on." Grabbing his hand, she helped him to his feet. Once he was upright, she dusted the leaves and dirt off his back.

"Hey… Can I try something?"

She looked up at him curiously. "Go for it."

"The dancing stuff we were doing, you said I could use it to figure out how you'll move in a fight. It's a partnership, right? Like… If we were in a fight together, against someone else, we could use that, use _each other_ against them."

Malia cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

"Here…" He reached for her hand and pulled her out to the center of the clearing. "You know gymnastics, so you're better at the flipping and stuff."

"I don't know, you were flipping around pretty good against the alpha."

"Maybe it was a fluke."

Malia frowned. "Scott, not everything you do is by accident. At some point, you need to trust your instincts." She poked a finger against his chest. "You might not have studied gymnastics, but you can still do things."

"Okay, so let's try it out." He stepped back from her. "I want you to use me as your jump off point. I can catch you and throw you, kind of like—"

"Like an arrow. Point and shoot. You use the speed I have from running and your own strength, and I become the weapon."

Scott nodded. "Yeah. Something like that."

Shrugging, Malia backed up. "Okay. It's worth trying." She watched him for a beat. "Ready?"

He pulled the sleeves of his hoodie up. "Yeah."

Malia ran toward him, arms pumping at her sides. But just when she got close, Scott bent forward and low. Confused, Malia went up and over. She rolled across his back before her feet landed heel-first in the dirt. She skidded a good five feet across the forest floor, kicking up dirt and debris, her arms wind-milling to keep her balance. Turning back around, she put her hands on her hips. "What was _that?_ "

"I panicked!" He shrugged. "I started to think about how it could go wrong. What if I throw you and you hit a tree or something?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "Okay. Then let's try something else."

Scott sighed. "I'm holding you back."

"No, you're just stuck in your head. You're thinking about all the ways it can go wrong instead of how it might go right." She walked back toward him. "I think you had the right idea. We can use each other to increase our strength. Like, if I need to kick someone and you swing me around, then, in theory, I'll be kicking them harder. Right?"

"In theory, yeah."

"So, let's try it." She took his hands and held them out. "You don't have to let go. You just have to grab on."

Scott nodded.

Malia backed up again, dug the toe of her shoes down against the ground, and then pushed off. She ran across the space between them and, this time, Scott didn't panic. He grabbed her hands when she was in reach, and pivoted. What they hadn't anticipated was that the momentum of Malia's jump would end up pulling Scott along with her. So instead of swinging up and around, she pulled him right off the ground. They flew a few feet before eventually landing stomach first on the ground.

With a grunt and a laugh, Malia turned over. "Okay. It might need some work."

Scott let out a strained laugh, his breathing off from the hard landing. "Yeah. A bit."

"Still a good idea though."

"Uh-huh."

"We just need to perfect it."

"Sure."

Malia pulled herself up and walked to him, turning him over onto his back so they were facing each other. "We're not going to get it right if we don't do it again."

Groaning, Scott held his hands out, and Malia obligingly helped him to his feet.

Putting a hand on his hip, Scott winced. "What about what you did before?"

"When?"

"When I panicked. You rolled over my back. If you were expecting it, you could kick someone that way."

Malia nodded. "Yeah, probably."

"So… Maybe I could try that one."

She smiled. "Sure."

Scott crossed the ground to take up position while Malia got ready.

"Keep your arms pulled in close and let your feet drop so you don't just immediately land on the ground. Pull your legs in front of you when you start to roll off."

Scott nodded.

"Okay. Ready… _Go!_ "

Scott ran toward her. Malia kept an eye on his body language and then ducked low, angling her shoulder down so he wouldn't hit it. She felt him roll across her back evenly and then turned her head to see him land. He was a little unsteady, his knees nearly giving out, but he caught himself. Turning back around, he grinned at her.

Malia nodded at him. "You did it!"

He beamed. "I did!"

Feeling like they were making real progress, she said, "You wanna try it again?"

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After getting the hang of the back tumble, they spent a good half hour focused solely on rolling, flipping, and cartwheeling. Malia tutored Scott through the basics that she'd learned in gymnastics and then gradually increased a regular roll into a dive roll. From there, they started incorporating their surroundings. Running up the sides of trees before back flipping to land on their feet. Using branches to swing themselves up high before flipping off them and rolling across the ground. Malia showed him a few cartwheels, including how to do it without using their hands. And while Scott was less inclined to do cartwheels, he did enjoy the flipping and rolling. There was something freeing about all of it. The more he tried, the more he trusted his body not to give out on him.

"I think the flips come naturally to you." Malia sat on the ground, her back resting against a tree with her legs outstretched. She drank liberally from a bottle of water, swiping at her chin when some of it dribbled out. "You show them off a lot in lacrosse anyway."

Scott grinned from his position sprawled out on the grass beside her, picking up a few pieces and tossing them aimlessly. "What do you think you're good at?"

She shrugged. "Running. It's what I'm used to."

"The self-defence stuff comes in handy. You've taught me a few things." More than a few things. He felt a little bad that he wasn't able to do the same for her. Unless she wanted to learn how to play lacrosse or to stitch up a furry patient, Scott wasn't sure what he really had to offer.

"It's kind of fun."

"What is?"

"Doing all of this." She waved vaguely. "A couple days ago, I wouldn't be able to do half this stuff."

Scott looked up at her curiously. "Does that mean you're okay with it? Or getting there?" It felt like it had taken forever for him to get anywhere near acceptance. Sometimes he wasn't entirely sure he _had_ accepted his new lot in life. But, avoiding it hadn't done him any favors.

"I don't know." Her brow furrowed. "I still have questions and I don't know how I'll feel until I have answers to them. But, I don't hate it."

Scott nodded. "I knew you'd be good at it."

Malia looked down at him a moment, something soft and warm in her expression. And then she reached out and brushed some of his shaggy hair out of his eyes, her fingertips gently grazing his forehead.

Scott felt his heart thump and shift in his chest; his mouth went dry and his breath stuttered. This was exactly what made getting over her seem so impossible. It was every little touch and the way she looked at him and that gentle side of her that snuck out at the most unexpected times. When suddenly, he felt like he was the only person in her world and she might like that as much as he did.

"I think I might've skipped a lot of the freaking out because I already saw _you_ go through it."

Scott swallowed. "Yeah? So, I was like your guinea pig."

Rolling her eyes, Malia shook her head. "Hardly. And I haven't even been through a full moon yet… There's one coming up next Monday."

"Yeah." He frowned as the once light mood suddenly felt heavy. "What're we going to do?"

Malia sighed. "I don't know. We'll have to figure something out with Stiles."

Scott's brow furrowed. "Yeah."

"Are you scared?"

He looked up, surprised. "Scared?"

"You've only been through one moon before this and it was a little… _intense_." She searched his face. "You jumped out your window and ran into those hunters."

He grimaced. "I just hope it doesn't hurt like it did." Sitting in his bathtub, his body felt like it was on fire; every limb and muscle pulling and twisting. He thought he was going to break right out of his skin. The only upside had been having Malia there, trying to calm him down.

"Yeah, me either." Her gaze fell to her lap. "Scott, if I turn into a coyote… I need you to find me and bring me back."

There was a tremor in her voice. It sounded off; like picking at the wrong cord on a guitar. Malia had said before that it felt like she was stuck and there was no way out, but maybe he hadn't completely understood what that felt like. For him, his shift wasn't as absolute. He didn't have control, but he also didn't turn into an actual wolf. He wondered if that would be better or worse. From the sounds of it, he would have to go with worse.

Scott sat up and shifted so he was sitting beside her, shoulder to shoulder. "You know I will." He turned to look at her. "It's just going to take some time for you to get control. Then, maybe you can shift as much or as little as you want, you know? Maybe one day you'll _want_ to shift into the coyote. For a little while anyway."

"Maybe." She shook her head. "But right now, it feels like she wants to be in control. Like she wants to just take over and keep me stuck there."

Scott tried to imagine what that would be like— if Malia just disappeared and there was nothing but the coyote left, roaming the woods, on the fringes of life. It settled heavy in his stomach. Both Malia and Derek had emphasized that the werewolf was just a part of who Scott was now. According to Derek, it was a gift. While Malia seemed to think that, eventually, the wolf would be more influenced by Scott than the other way around. A big difference between his wolf and her coyote though was the intention of each. Scott often felt like the wolf _wanted_ to hurt people. But when it came to Malia's coyote... "You said she wanted to protect you, right?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"From what?"

She paused. "The Alpha."

"Is that all?"

Malia chewed the inside of her cheek. "Everything, I guess. The stuff with my dad. My mom and my sister… How scared I've been lately."

Scott turned to her. She stared out at the ground ahead, giving him only her profile.

"I tried…" Her voice quivered. "I tried really hard to be strong. But after the video store and then at Allison's and then the school, I just… I felt so _weak_. Like there was nothing I could do. And I wanted my dad to be there. I wanted him to care, but he doesn't. He _can't_. And I want to hate him for it. I think I _do_. But…" She swallowed tightly. "I wish it was different. I wish he could be who I need him to be. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," he murmured.

Scott thought of Rafael; of missed phone calls and cancelled visits. Of the growing, festering resentment that had shadowed him so much when he was younger. Of the father he wished Rafael could be. And even the father he had been once. Scott was lucky enough to have his mom when his dad just couldn't be there. But that didn't erase the hurt and pain of having but not having a father had left in him.

Blinking quickly against a sheen of tears, Malia tipped her head back and stared up through the crowded tree branches. "I know there's no point in wishing my mom was here, but I do. Because she'd make it better. She'd make me feel strong. And I just… I _don't_. Physically, I'm the strongest I've ever been, but in my head, I feel like this weak little girl who doesn't know what she's doing."

Scott reached out and found her hand; he turned it over and slid his palm over hers, folding their fingers together. "I can't make this better. I wish I could. I wish I could bring your mom back or help your dad or just make you feel stronger." He squeezed her hand. "All I can do is be here until you feel strong again. And probably for a long time after that, too."

Malia sniffled and turned to see him. "Probably?"

He stared at her, the space between them seeming incredibly small in the moment. "Definitely."

Malia swallowed tightly. "Good."

Scott reached out then, his fingers tucking a piece of hair away from her cheek. "We should dance again."

Her brow furrowed. "What, now?"

Scott shrugged. "Yeah." Pushing up from the ground, he pulled her along with him. "It's good for training, right?"

"Yeah…" Her eyes narrowed. "Are you sure this isn't to cheer me up?"

Scott tugged her closer and brought her hands up onto his shoulders while his own fell to her waist. "Would it work?"

Malia stared at him a beat and then stepped closer, until they were chest to chest. "Maybe."

Scott's fingers walked up her sides before sliding around to meet at the small of her back. "Can't hurt to try."

She took a step forward and his foot moved back, anticipating her. "You think we can take the Alpha for a spin before the next fight?"

His mouth split in a grin. "I don't know if it'd make a good partner."

"Probably not." They moved around in circles, the surrounding world a blur of brown and green. "Your dancing's improved."

"Maybe it's you." He leaned forward, until their foreheads met. "If I had to pick a partner, I'd pick you every time."

"For dancing?"

Scott's gaze fell from hers, resting on her mouth, and then rose to meet hers again. It was a gamble and, maybe one he wasn't thinking through completely, but the words were out before he could properly weigh them. "For everything."

One of Malia's hands climbed Scott's shoulders to hook around the nape of his neck. Scott felt her fingers against his skin like a brand; warm and heavy in a way that suggested that he would feel them there long after she'd let go.

Suddenly, however, they were falling. And not quite in the way that he hoped. An upturned root had caught the back of Scott's foot and they tumbled to the ground. He wrapped his arms around her as he landed, trying to break her fall. She let out a muted yelp and then an _'oof_ ' as she landed against his stomach.

Wincing, Scott reached behind his head; a dull, throbbing sensation echoed down his neck.

Malia startled. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just knocked my head against something."

"Let me see." She felt around under his head and came out with a chunk of wood. She showed it to him before she tossed it away. "Are you bleeding…? I can't smell any blood." Her fingers probed the back of his head, gently combing through his hair. "Are you dizzy or…?"

He stared up at her, his mouth upturned in a soft smile.

"What?"

"I think I'm okay." His gaze moved downward, to where she was sprawled out on top of him. "Are you okay?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "I'm fine. You cushioned my fall."

He hummed. "I guess my dancing isn't much better."

"It could be worse." She sat up and took his hands, standing and pulling him up with her.

"Yeah? How?"

"Stiles could've seen it."

Scott nodded. "He'd never let it go."

"Exactly." She took a step back. "Uh, we should call him, actually. See what he's doing."

"Yeah, he probably has something else for us to lift."

Malia snorted. "Probably."

"And you got your thing with Cole later, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Not for a couple hours yet."

Scott tucked his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, his stomach twisting up in knots. Somehow, even knowing that Malia wasn't quite as invested in Cole as he thought she was, the idea of them hanging out still sat funny inside him. Maybe it was the knowledge that hanging out meant making out. Or the fear that eventually her feelings for Cole _would_ grow. In the end, he knew that was her decision and he'd end up supporting her either way. Her happiness mattered a lot more than his unrequited crush. "What're you going to do?"

Shrugging, she said, "I don't know. Talk to him, I guess."

His smile grew. "You look constipated."

She shoved his shoulder. "It's just uncomfortable."

"What, _talking?_ "

"With certain people, yeah." Malia shrugged. "It's easy with some people. I don't even really have to think about it. But with other people… it's like pulling teeth. I don't know how to put what I'm feeling into the right words. And then I'm worried I'm going to hurt _his_ feelings and that's a whole extra level of awkward."

"Maybe you could just pretend he's someone you _can_ talk to."

"What, like, pretend he's you?"

Scott blinked. His heart stuttered and he swallowed tightly. "Would that help?"

She stared at him a beat. "I guess it depends on where the conversation goes."

Scott opened his mouth— to say what, he had no idea— but before anything could come out, he heard a familiar noise in the distance.

Malia turned her head, too. "Looks like we don't have to call Stiles..."

No, they didn't. Because that was definitely the struggling sound of Stiles' jeep coming up the driveway.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Once Stiles had been filled in on what, exactly, they'd practiced— some of which they performed for him, like excited children trying to show off to a semi-impressed parent— he asked them a hard, but obvious question.

"What about shifting?"

Scott and Malia exchanged a look. "What about it?"

Stiles rolled his eyes impatiently and walked toward them, his hands moving around insistently. "Well, have you tested it? I mean, I know Malia's freaked out she might turn completely, but that's kind of the point, right? The sooner we can help her get some kind of control of the shift the better— that way she's only got the furry face and not a full body coat."

Malia grimaced. "The last thing I want to do is purposely trigger the shift."

"And I get that. But, if we do this, if we get it down before the full moon, I'm betting you'll feel a lot better about it."

Scott sighed. "He has a point."

Malia crossed her arms and looked between them. "How would we even do it?"

"We start small." Stiles nodded. "Claws." He reached out and clapped a hand against Scott's shoulder. "You said when you were reaching for the bullet, when Derek was basically knocking at death's door, you made your claws come out so you could reach it. Right?"

Scott nodded.

"Okay, so how did it work? How'd you do it?"

"I don't know. I was worried." Scott shrugged. "I knew I had to do something or he was really going to die and it would kind of be my fault. So, I just… I _made_ them come out."

" _How?_ " Stiles stared at him seriously. "I mean, did you think about them getting longer? Did you focus on anything specific?"

"It's all kind of blurry. I was panicking and reaching, so I tried to calm down, to focus, and it just happened."

"We can work with that." Stiles drummed his fingers against his chin and turned to Malia. "All right. You're calm. There's nothing crazy happening. We're in the middle of the woods, so there's no one around you might hurt. All you have to do is make your finger nails _claws_. Sound good?"

Malia stared at him a beat. "That's your pep talk?"

"What? Yeah. What was wrong with it?" He looked from her to Scott and back. "I didn't think you needed a whole spiel."

Rolling her eyes, Malia brought her hands up and stared at her fingertips. "Now what?"

Scott pressed his lips flat to hide a smile and Malia glared at him.

"You do it then."

Scott shrugged his shoulders high. "I'm still figuring it out, too."

"Then why don't you try it out together," Stiles suggested. "No pressure. Just a totally normal exploration of your wolfie powers." He rubbed his hands together and then waved at them. "All right. Nails to claws. _Go_."

Scott took a deep breath and flicked his hands out. When he looked down, he was surprised to see that his nails had, in fact, changed.

"Hey, no fair." Malia pursed her lips and flicked her own hands out, her fingers curved up, but her nails staying as human as ever. "How'd you do it?"

"I don't know. I wasn't really thinking about it. I just did it."

"Super helpful. Any other suggestions?"

Scott smiled. "Don't overthink it. Just… let it happen. It's a part of us, right? Trust that it'll happen and it will… Maybe."

Malia sighed. "Your certainty is overwhelming."

"I'm still figuring a lot of this stuff out. Usually this happens when I'm freaking out and I have to calm down to make it go away." He frowned and then looked down at his claw-tipped fingers. "How do I make them go away if I'm already calm?"

"Let us know when you figure that out," Stiles said.

Malia glared down at her hands. "How am I supposed to handle another shift if I can't even figure out how to control my fingernails?"

"Hey, it takes time to get the hang of this stuff, right?" Stiles reached out and rubbed her arm encouragingly. "Scott's already had a month of trying and failing. You've only had a couple days. And so far, you're doing pretty good. You took a chunk out of an alpha and you're out here, flipping off trees like Tarzan. That's something."

Malia sighed. "I guess."

"We'll keep trying." Stiles shrugged. "Plus, I want to go over some ideas for what to do when the full moon hits. Mostly, I've been thinking chains, which… I'm guessing you won't like, but there's not a whole lot of other options." He looked between them. "Unless you guys have some ideas?"

Grimacing, Malia looked to Scott, who shrugged. "Not yet. But I'd prefer to avoid chains, if we can."

Stiles pointed at her. "Last resort, got it."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

In the end, Malia found the half-shift elusive. As much as Scott tried to explain what it felt like, she wasn't sure how to make it happen for herself. And even he had to admit that most of the time, it wasn't in his control. The claws, teeth, and extra facial hair tended to sneak up on him. Which meant that it was going to be a process. Unfortunately, Malia was impatient. Which meant that every time she failed, she only grew more frustrated with herself. Until Stiles eventually pulled the plug on training and said they'd just have to come back to it.

Scott and Malia lingered on her porch while Stiles raided her kitchen for a bowl of cereal. Which reminded her, she really needed to go grocery shopping… Not that she really had the money for it right now. In fact, most of it would probably be spent at dinner with Cole. But, that was a whole other issue she didn't feel like thinking about or dealing with right now.

"I just wish I knew how all of it worked." Malia frowned. "I don't like feeling like my body is just going to do whatever it wants and I don't get a say."

Scott nodded. "I get it. It sucks. But… Today, out there, you were amazing. You're doing a lot more than I did the first week I changed."

"You were scared and confused," Malia defended. "You had no idea what was going on outside of Stiles' half-baked werewolf theory."

"Yeah, true. But, after an initial freak out, you jumped in with both feet." Scott stared at her searchingly. "It might take a little while, but you're going to figure it out. We both are."

"Maybe. But not before the full moon."

He licked his lips, his gaze falling to the porch floor. "Stiles has a plan for that."

"Chaining us up like we're—" _animals_.

Scott pushed off the wood pillar at his back and walked to her. He reached out, his hands gently folding around her forearms. "Hey… I know it's scary. I've been scared from the moment I started to change. But… you'll get through it." His fingers lightly dragged down her arms until his hands found hers. "The full moon lasts one night. We get through that and we have another month to work on our control."

"And then a lifetime of full moons." She stared up at him. "What if I never figure it out? Or what if the coyote gets control first?"

"She won't. _Malia_ …" He stepped closer and raised one of his hands until it found her cheek. Malia leaned into it, her eyes falling to half-mast. "I found you once, I can do it again. I'll keep doing it. And I'll keep bringing you back."

Her mouth trembled. "So what, you're going to spend your whole life chasing down some wild coyote?" she joked.

"If I have to." His thumb stroked her cheek. "If it's you."

Malia's heart jumped.

And then the front door opened and Stiles poked his head out. "You're out of cereal. And milk." He spooned a bite into his mouth, milk dribbling down his chin. "Now."

Scott let out a strained laugh and stepped back. "We should probably go."

"What, now?" Stiles' brow furrowed. "But I just…" He held his bowl up meaningfully.

Scott stared at him.

"Fine." Stiles shoved his bowl into Malia's hands. "I mixed Alpha-bits and Honeycomb together. You're welcome."

Snorting, Malia nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

"Call me later," Stiles said, making his way down the stairs while he dug his jeep keys out of his jeans.

"I will." Malia looked to Scott. "Thanks for today. And last night." She shifted her feet awkwardly. "I don't think I was ready to be alone."

Scott half-smiled. "I'm only doing what you did for me." He turned on his heel and walked back toward the stairs then. "Text me later."

Malia nodded.

He paused at the top of the stairs and tucked his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. "Have fun tonight." His gaze darted away. "With Cole."

"Thanks."

Nodding, he turned and walked down the stairs, making his way to Stiles' jeep. He paused at the door and waved to her. Malia waved back. She waited until the jeep had pulled away, headlights bouncing, before she made her way inside. She tossed Stiles' mushy cereal out and then walked to the couch, flopping down and letting out a long, heavy sigh. One of these days, these emotionally charged moments with Scott were going to stop feeling all weird and floaty… right?

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After showering, Malia changed into something a little more 'dinner date' appropriate. Only it wasn't a date, not really. It was… a meal… with another person… that she occasionally made out with. Speaking of, she hadn't done that in what felt like _ages_. Not that there was a quota she had to meet for make-outs with him or anything, but it sure felt like they hadn't connected on that level much since this whole people-with-benefits thing started. Now, they were a lot more like just _people_.

Sitting on her bed, she was brushing her tangled, wet hair, when she heard her phone ringing. Plucking it from her bedside table, she flipped it over to see Allison's smiling face staring back at her. Hitting 'Answer,' she raised it to her ear. "Hey."

"Hey!" Allison's voice was warm and cheerful. " _Sooo_ , I talked to my dad. It took some convincing, but he said I could stay over at your place tomorrow night."

"Great!" Malia sat back against her headboard. "Any ideas if Lydia plans on coming over, too?"

"She's kind of been texting me non-stop about what I'm going to wear and asking if you have _eggs_. I guess she has a really strict breakfast routine or something. So, I'm going to go with 'yeah,' she's definitely going to be there."

Malia hummed. "What'd you decide to wear?"

"What did Lydia decide for me, you mean?" She laughed lightly. "Just jeans and a nice top. She was pushing a skirt, but I put my foot down."

"Good for you."

"Yeah. What about you?"

Malia shrugged. "No idea. Haven't really thought that far ahead."

"Why don't I come over early? I can help you get ready. It'll be the quintessential 'girly' experience."

Malia's voice turned teasing, "I thought you said you weren't girly?"

"I'll make an exception."

Malia smiled. "Girly experience it is."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia wasn't sure why she was nervous. Sitting in a booth at Rosie's, she rolled her milkshake between her hands, feeling each cold, hard ridge of the glass leave an imprint against her palms, and waited on Cole to show up, double checking the time on her phone a few times. It was raining outside; she watched it pepper the windows and then watched a few droplets make their trek down. Absently, she picked one and waited to see if it would win the race against the other droplets.

The bell hanging over the door rang then, drawing her attention. Cole stepped inside and flipped the hood back on his jacket. His hair was damp but not soaked, some of it clinging to his forehead before he ran his fingers through it and walked down the aisle toward her. He smiled when their eyes met. Malia pondered the absence of butterflies and bowling-ball sized feelings. Was it Cole or was she just in so deep with Scott that nobody else had a chance?

"Is that a milkshake?" His grin widened as he shrugged off his jacket and took a seat across from her. "You know it's cold out, right?"

"Hardly." She brought her milkshake closer and stared at him searchingly. "Is that from the rain or did you shower?"

"The rain. I didn't make it to my car in time. Why? Does it make me look good?"

Malia huffed a laugh. "No."

"No?" His brows hiked playfully. "I don't think I've ever heard that before."

"Your ego's showing."

Cole leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Why'd you call me?"

She shrugged. "I told you. I'm cashing in a rain check."

He hummed, and then looked away as a waitress dropped by the table. He ordered a coffee with a plate of pancakes and bacon. Once she was gone, he turned back to Malia. "You remember on Tuesday, we had lunch together?"

Malia nodded slowly, confused by the sudden topic change.

"And you said you didn't share food."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is this a precursor to you telling me I can't have any of your pancakes?"

"No." His mouth ticked up at the corner. "I'm happy to share."

"Thanks."

He took a deep breath. "After you said that, Scott dropped by the table. All he had were some carrots or something, so you gave him half your sandwich."

A cold rush of feeling fell over her, sudden realization dawning. "I remember."

Cole stared at her searchingly. "After our bowling date, you said you were getting over someone and you didn't want to jump into something. It never really bugged me. Whoever they were, they were out of your life, and you were ready to move on. And then we decided to just enjoy the benefits. So, jealousy didn't make sense. And I'm not saying I am." He drummed his hands against the table. "I liked you right away. You're funny and beautiful and... a lot snarkier than I expected."

"Part of my charm," she muttered.

"Yeah, it is. So, I liked you, and I wanted to see where it went, but I was okay when you said it would only go so far. I don't need rose petals and hand holding and dramatic declarations of love and forever." He paused. "When I found out about the video store, I felt guilty. If we weren't getting together that night, you never would've been there. And I know you felt uncomfortable when I said I was worried. Maybe you thought I was catching serious feelings."

"I had some suspicions."

"And maybe I was. A little. But I respect you and what you want. And I know that I'm not _who_ you want."

Malia swallowed.

The waitress returned with a mug then, filled it with coffee, and left a bowl with individual cups of cream behind. Malia watched as Cole opened three and poured them each into his mug before reaching across the table for the sugar, which he poured in liberally. Stirring her milkshake, she chewed her lip.

"I'm not mad." Cole half-smiled at her. "And I'm not trying to put you on the spot."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Offering an ear, I guess." He shrugged. "We said when we started this that the benefits part wouldn't interrupt the friendship. But I don't think we've had much time to work on that."

Malia shook her head. "Not really."

"Look, I get the feeling you don't let a lot of people in."

She snorted. "You could say that."

"You don't have to tell me your life story, and you don't have to tell me what's going on with you and Scott if you don't want to. But I thought maybe you could use a friend. Maybe we'll have better luck with that, since we keep getting interrupted otherwise."

Malia sat forward and rested her arms on the table. "Scott's my best friend."

Cole stared at her a beat, nothing in his expression suggesting he was judging her. There was a knowing, sympathetic tilt to his mouth instead. "When did it change?"

"It didn't. Not really. He's always been my best friend. Now he's just… He's more than that, too."

Cole nodded. "Does he know?"

"No."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

She frowned. What was it with people and asking her that? "Pretty sure, yeah."

"So, you don't think he feels the same way." He said it like a statement, not a question.

She shook her head. "He doesn't."

Cole hummed and lifted his coffee for a sip.

"What was that?" She mimicked his hum. "What does that mean?"

He lowered his mug. "Nothing."

Malia rolled her eyes. "That was not a 'nothing' hum. That was a 'something' hum."

Cole half-smiled. "You're a straight forward person. I like that about you."

"Okay."

"I'm really close with my mom. Did I ever tell you that?"

"No. Not really. You don't talk about your family much."

"There's a reason." Cole tapped his fingers against the table. "I don't like my dad. He's not a good person and I don't really like being home or around him. He's... angry. All the time. About everything and nothing. It gets exhausting just being around him. And my mom... She's the opposite. She's the kind of person you can always go to and she'll make you feel better. Growing up, when my dad would get mad at me for not cleaning up all my toys or not winning my basketball games or not getting straight A's, my mom would stand up for me. She'd put herself between us every time. She's that kind of person. If someone else is being treated like shit, she'd stand up for them. But, if it was... If _she_ was being yelled at, she just took it. She never stood up for herself. She let him walk all over her." His brow furrowed. "You kind of remind me of her. I'm not saying you're quiet or meek or small, but when it comes to standing up for yourself, for asking what _you_ deserve, you don't. I think you see more value in other people and I'm not really sure why. I don't know if you're beating yourself up for something I just don't know about. But... I notice it."

Malia chewed her lip. "Pretty big claim for someone who doesn't spend a lot of time with me."

"Maybe I'm observant."

She sat back in her seat and stared at him a beat. "Scott's not a prize I can win if I like myself."

"No. But he's also not someone who can leave you if you never try to have him."

Her jaw ticked. "So maybe I spook easy when it comes to feelings."

Cole wrapped his hands around his coffee mug. "I don't know Scott very well. The few times we've talked, he didn't seem too interested in knowing me. And that's okay. I'm not going to hold it against him. But I like to think I know you a little better. You're a good person, Malia. You care about people and you protect your friends and you're a great kisser."

She snorted a laugh.

He half-grinned. "Look, I... I can be happy with what we have. We can leave here, go back to my place, put on some music and 'hang out.' Or we can stay here, have something to eat, and work more on friendship than benefits." He shrugged. "Or we can scrap the whole thing. If that's what you want."

The waitress appeared then. She dropped off a bottle of syrup and a plate of pancakes and bacon.

Malia leaned forward, stole a slice of bacon, and said, "I'm getting kinda good at this 'making friends' thing... Let's start there."

Cole smiled. "Okay."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Scott was started to get dizzy watching Stiles pace from one end of the living room to the other.

"Back up, you two were having some kind of intense, forest dance with each other, and you told her that you would pick her to be your partner in _everything_?" Stiles let out a muted, strangled noise. "And she just, casually, _accepted_ that?"

Scott shrugged. "I guess. I kind of tripped and we fell, so we didn't really have time to talk about it."

Stiles paced. "Okay, but you definitely said that, right? Like, those exact words?"

Scott's brow furrowed. "Yeah. But, I don't see what the big deal is… She's going out with Cole later. She's probably with him right now. And she even said that his feelings are changing, or she thinks they are."

" _Yes_. She also said that hers _aren't_." Stiles whirled around, a hand on his hip, and widened his eyes. "How many ways are you guys going to spell this stuff out for each other?"

"What do you mean?"

Abruptly taking a seat, Stiles clasped his hands together and rested his forehead against them, before letting out a semi-hysterical laugh. "This is what I get. I have been a _great_ best friend. And this is what I get for being loyal."

Scott stared at him. "Are you okay?"

"I am—" Stiles looked up, folded his mouth closed, and took a deep breath through his nose. "I am only going to say this… _one_ more time… Okay?"

Scott nodded slowly.

"Scott… you're in love with Malia. You have been for a _long_ time. And for whatever reason, you decided to be a martyr and just not tell her that your feelings had changed. _Whatever_. But now, here we are, after six years of friendship. And she is _literally_ the closest person in your life." He paused. "Besides me. I like to think we're just as close but on a different, less sexually charged level. You know?" He waved a dismissive hand. "Anyway. The point is, that you and Malia are… you… and if you could just…" He gritted his teeth. "You need to tell her. I'm not just saying that for you or for her, I'm saying it for _me_. This avoidance, with the excuses and the implied feelings stuff, it's all just getting in the way. And I can't take it anymore, okay? I need you to get it together and just…" He clapped his hands together and then pointed them at Scott. " _Okay?_ "

Scott opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, Stiles held a finger up.

"No. No excuses. I don't want to hear them. I'm going to go pick up dinner for me and my dad. And I want you to sit here and think about your relationship with Malia, okay? All of it. Every minute moment you two shared. And I want you to think about it from _her_ side, not just yours. When you figure it out, you let me know."

"But—"

Stiles waved his hand and hurried to the door. "No buts!" With that, he left, slamming the door behind him.

Scott frowned.

A moment later, the door opened, and a confused Melissa walked in. She waved a thumb behind her. "Is Stiles okay?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah, just… being Stiles."

Melissa shrugged. "If you say so."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After a surprisingly pleasant dinner with Cole, Malia was feeling pretty good. Up until she arrived home to a surprise.

Henry's truck was parked in the front.

Her stomach suddenly bottomed out and she stood, awash in uncertainty. The flash of Cole's headlights bounced across the front of the house as he backed up and turned to leave down the road. Malia seriously considered turning tail and running. Stiles would come pick her up if she asked; it wasn't a big deal. At the same time, however, she knew that avoiding it would only last for so long. That said, when she patted her hands against her hips and tried to take a deep breath, she quickly realized that claws had formed and left some not so attractive tears in her jeans. _Great_. She couldn't make them appear at will, but here they were, exactly when she _didn't_ want them. Malia stared at her hands a long moment, at the nails that could do pretty much nothing against her emotional turmoil. This was going to suck, guaranteed. It would be hard and emotional and maybe she'd end up feeling even more hurt than the last time her and her dad spoke. But adding claws to the equation wouldn't help. No, she needed to be calm. She needed to bottle up her feelings and face whatever was inside her house.

Malia focused on her breathing. She sucked air in through her nose and blew it out through her mouth, over and over. She tapped her fingers against her hips and paced from one side of her driveway to the other in long, quick strides. Until, eventually, her heart had slowed down, her claws had reverted to nails, and she felt a little steadier. She was still unsure about what to expect, but she was ready to face it.

Malia climbed the porch stairs and crossed to the front door. Her hand hesitated against the handle for just a moment before she turned it and stepped inside. She held her breath, half-expecting the sudden and bitter odor of empty beer cans. She'd only been gone a couple hours, but still. Her eyes automatically moved to the couch— an all too familiar sight was him passed out, a few cans or bottles laying around. What she wasn't expecting was an empty couch, the throw blanket folded and laid over the back. The door closed behind her as she stepped inside, casting her gaze toward the kitchen and dining room.

"I wasn't sure you'd come inside."

Malia stared at her dad's back. He was sitting at the table, his hands clasped together. No beer in sight. She tilted her chin and admitted, "I thought about leaving."

"Wouldn't blame you if you did." Henry reached out and tapped at the table, gesturing for her to join him. "We need to talk."

Grinding her teeth, she walked toward him, pulled out a chair and took a seat. She crossed her arms and leaned away, but the tips of her shoes were dug in, ready to push off the floor and put some distance between them.

"Malia..." He rubbed a hand against his forehead. "I owe you an apology."

She paused. Those weren't the words she thought she'd hear from him. An excuse. An angry rebuke for lying to him. But not an apology. Truthfully, she wasn't sure how to react. As it turned out, she didn't need to. Not yet at least.

"I, uh... I haven't been good to you, have I?" Henry blinked quickly. He gripped his hands together so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. "I tried to tell myself I was. That I was doing everything I could. I paid the bills, kept a roof over our heads, and I never missed a day of work. But, uh... There's a lot of things I did miss." He swallowed tightly. "I spent too many days living in a bottle and not right here with you. Days when you needed me."

Malia felt her heartbeat pick up. While she'd seen her dad epitomize the word 'misery' in the last six years, it was rare to hear it so clearly in his voice, and even more rare that it was about her. She'd gotten somewhat used to the drunken rants about what was lost and who he missed, but this didn't feel the same.

"Look, it's no excuse, but... After your mom and your sister died, I... I was lost. And Melissa McCall was a pretty good wake-up call back then. For a while, I guess. At some point, I started slipping again. And, uh..." He rubbed at his nose and cleared his throat. "And it was a lot worse than I thought it was, because somewhere along the way, you stopped trusting me. Stopped believing I'd be here if you needed me and I... I don't know if you can ever forgive me for that. I don't know if I can forgive myself for it. But... I owe you an apology."

Malia didn't move, staying perfectly still. She watched his face; the tension around his tear-filled eyes, the tremble of his chin, and the bob of his throat as he tried to swallow down the emotion building. A part of her felt bad. Wanted to reach out and tell him it was okay. Another part wasn't ready for that.

"I need you to know that there wasn't one day... not _one_ day that I wished it was you instead of them... And it— It h-hurts me that you think there was. That you could think I would _ever_..." His voice caught and he unfolded his hands, reaching up to drag them roughly over his face. "What happened... what we lost... I know it weighs on you. And I know I haven't been there to help you through it. I... I told myself that you were strong. Stronger than I've ever been. That you had good people around you that were helping you. But that wasn't their responsibility. It was mine. And I should've done more. I should've listened to you instead of hiding from it…" His gaze darted around, but never quite met hers. "I didn't know how to help you, because I couldn't even help myself. And that's not an excuse, because I should've found a way. Do you understand that? I just need you to know that it was never about you. It was never that you weren't _worth_ it. Because you are." He turned then, finally letting his gaze meets hers. "You're my daughter, Malia. You're my family. You're all I've got left in this world and I... I _hate_ that I made you feel like you didn't matter."

Malia stared back, her own chin wobbling despite the silent rebuke she sent her body for showing even that tiny bit of weakness. Her throat tightened and burned and she knew, as soon as she opened her mouth, that her voice would be little more than a croak. But she still managed to tell him, "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. You don't _owe_ me anything." Henry reached out, his hand upturned, palm open and fingers splayed. "I just need you to know that I'm going to get better. I'm going to _be_ better. For both of us."

Malia stared at his hand a long moment. "What does that _mean?"_

"It means… No more drinking. It means I start listening more and being here when you need me. And it means that if something happens… you come to me. Maybe that takes some time for you to get used to, but it's a rule. So, if you get hurt, I don't find out about it from someone else." His brows hiked. "Okay?"

Malia chewed her lip.

"I know I haven't done a lot to be the dad you deserve. But I'm trying. I want to try. So, can you do this, can you give me some time to prove it to you?"

Her heart felt unsteady in her chest. It wasn't crazy for her to want a parent in her life that was steady and present. But their history wasn't exactly smooth sailing and a little voice in her head was quick to tell her not to get attached, because it would only blow up in her face.

Slowly, Henry's fingers closed. "It's okay." His voice was quiet and subdued. "You need some time. I get that."

Malia brought her hands down into her lap and folded them together, her fingers squeezing tightly. "I want to trust you. But…"

"But you don't." Henry sighed quietly. "I hurt you and you need to know I won't do it again."

Her eyes burned and her vision blurred. "What changed? Why now?"

Standing from his chair, Henry leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of Malia's head. Quietly, he told her. "I woke up." With a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, he said, "You woke me up."

Malia listened to his footsteps as he left. She stayed where she was, staring at the table top. Feelings warred inside of her. Hope. Fear. Anger. Regret. She wasn't sure which to focus on and so she sunk back against her chair and just tried to breathe. Maybe he was right. Maybe she just needed some time. To see if he would give up or keep trying. Maybe in a week or two or a month from now, she would see something more concrete. Or maybe she wouldn't. But for right now, she was choosing to see what would happen.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Across town, Erica sat at her desk, her legs folded beneath her, laptop open. She had to keep it plugged in at all times, otherwise it died. She was saving up for a new one, but this would have to work for now. It was doing the job, anyway. She had more than eight tabs open and none of them were for homework. She had the whole weekend to work on that. Tonight, she was trying to satisfy her curiosity. Which meant that three tabs were dedicated solely to Derek Hale, the Hale fire, and the Hale family as a whole. Erica couldn't say she remembered them much, if at all. But, apparently, the Hale family was a pretty big deal before nearly all of them were wiped out by a fire. Some papers said it was a freak wiring accident, while others suggested it was arson and murder. After a lot of digging, she found old news clippings filed online that mentioned Derek Hale and his many winning basketball games. She stared at black and white pictures of him cheesing for the camera and wondered if, at sixteen years old, he'd set the fire that wiped out his family. If he was always a blood thirsty psycho and he'd just come home to set his sights on completely innocent high schoolers. Or if he was just a patsy for whoever the real killer was.

Three more tabs were about local animals, the odds they would attack people, and if there was a history of cougar attacks like the ones that had happened recently. The last two tabs verged on the more unbelievable. The kind of thing that made her snicker even as she refused to close them. But she hadn't closed them, and that said something, right? All of her searching for large animals that purposely attacked or hunted people, that dragged the bodies away for eating or hiding, that picked specific people to focus on, and aside from giving her more than a few reasons to never go near the woods again, it had also brought up another, stranger possibility.

Opening her Facebook, Erica clicked on Danny's name. Despite just how crazy her life had been recently, it was still a little surreal that she had become somewhat friends with Danny Mahealani. Malia had been a surprise, too. But Danny had been completely unexpected. On the social ladder, she was basically on the ground, while he was somewhere near the top. Still, he'd been a pretty amazing support since everything went nuts.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she stared at the open conversation box. Hesitating entirely too long, she sighed, and leaned back in her chair. This was stupid. She was chased out of the video store by a cougar. And whoever locked them in the school was human. Scott McCall said it was Derek Hale. And Derek had a strange history that _could_ possibly suggest that he was a killer. So, that made sense, right? A lot more sense than…

Her gaze skittered to the last two tabs that were open before falling back to Danny's name. She picked at her lower lip uncertainly. He'd think she was crazy, she was sure of it. And yet…

Erica sat forward and gathered her courage. She typed it out slowly, giving herself time to erase it and put this whole wild theory to rest. And it _was_ wild. It was totally bonkers. Malia said it was a cougar. Mr. Argent shot and killed a cougar at the school. And Tuesday night was a freak attack by Derek Hale.

Only, Danny said that no one could move one of those garbage bins on their own; they were too big and heavy. And it was just strange, wasn't it? So many attacks in such a short amount of time. The bus driver, the video clerk, the janitor, the librarian, and eight teenagers. Three of whom had been there when the cougar attacked the video store… It just seemed too unlikely.

She stabbed the enter button and let her question reach out to Danny, half-hoping he wouldn't even respond.

Except, he was online, and it said that he was replying.

Erica stared at her question, her heart lodged in her throat, and wondered what he would say.

— _do you think werewolves exist?_

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"I have to say... I wasn't expecting to see you. Not here, at least."

"I'm guessing you thought you'd have to track me down." He smiled, but it was weighed down by the defeated stoop of his shoulders and the exhaustion that lined his face.

Melissa had seen Henry in a tough spot in the past; she'd seen how the loss of his family had sucked much of the joy out of him. Over the years, she'd mostly watched those ups and downs from a distance. She welcomed Malia into her home and her arms and tried to be a positive and stable force in her life. Melissa couldn't replace Evelyn, she knew that. She didn't want to, either. Evelyn would always be Malia's mother. But, Malia needed, and clearly wanted, a female figure in her life, and she'd grown attached to Melissa over the years. The feeling was mutual. Melissa had seen just how close Scott and Stiles had become to that angry little girl Malia had first been. She'd seen Malia grow and soften over the years, too. But there were some things that didn't heal completely. Scar tissue had filled too many cracks and crevices in Malia's life, and part of that was on Henry's shoulders.

"Wouldn't be the first time..." Melissa stirred her tea as she sat back in her seat. "I worry about you, Henry. I worry about Malia, too. For a variety of reasons, not the least of which is her home life. But, that doesn't mean I don't worry about you and your well-being, too."

"I know." He reached up and scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "You, uh, you've been there for me and my family from the beginning. And I... I recognize that. I know I don't say it a lot and I know we keep our distance most of the time, but that's... That's on me. That's my fear and my..." His voice caught and he had to look away, to gather himself. "It's hard to look someone in the eye when they've seen you at your weakest, and you did. You saw me when I could barely keep my head up. Hell, I _wasn't_ keeping my head up. And you told me to get it together. You _made_ me get it together. That shouldn't have been your responsibility. But you took it on and I can't... I can't thank you enough for that."

Melissa stared at him a long beat and then nodded. "What's going on, Henry?"

He licked his dry lips and dropped his gaze to the table top, his brow furrowed tightly. "I think... I _know_ that I'm failing my daughter. And I'm not sure I can fix it. I think it might be past that now. But I know that I can fix _me_. Or I can try to, at least." His mouth wobbled as he raised his eyes to meet hers. "I took off Tuesday night and I've been drying out in a motel in Fontana. I haven't had a drop since, which..." He shook his head. "Doesn't say a whole lot, I know. But... I want it to be a start."

Melissa picked up her mug and held it between her hands. "I don't know which part to focus on. The part where Malia was alone at home for all that time or that you tried drying out without any medical supervision. Something very serious could have happened. You should have called me, we could've done this the right way."

"I know. I wasn't thinking straight at the time. I was..." He rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Tuesday night, I found out about the cougar and the stitches, and I confronted her. I wanted to be mad at her, I wanted her to explain herself, I'm ready to ground her for keeping that from me. And she... She looks at me and she tells me that it doesn't matter. That I don't _care_. And then she tells me that she wishes it was _her_ instead of Kylie and I..." He swiped quickly at his bristly cheek when a tear broke free. "I did that. I let her think that. I made her think that she wasn't worth anything."

"Henry..."

"I was supposed to protect her. Christ, if Evelyn was here, she'd kick my ass for letting it get like this." He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "I miss them. I really do. Every day I miss them and the life we used to have. But that doesn't mean I'm not grateful that I still have Malia. I don't know where I'd be without that kid." He shook his head. "I know I'm not doing good. And I know she deserves better. I just... I don't know _how_. I know the drinking has to stop and I need to get it together, but I don't know where I go from here."

Melissa nodded. She watched as Henry struggled to pull himself together. As he wiped his runny nose on the sleeve of his plaid shirt and swiped uncomfortably at his damp cheeks, Melissa sat forward. She rested her mug on the table with a dull _thunk_ , and then she reached out and placed a hand on Henry's forearm, squeezing gently. "Why don't we start with a meeting?"

He stared at her a moment and nodded.

Melissa smiled faintly. "There's a regular AA meeting out of the rec center. Rafi tried going a few times. As far as I know, it's still running in the same place. Let me make a few calls, I'll confirm the place and time."

"Yeah. That, uh, that sounds good."

Melissa stood from the table, patted his shoulder, and made her way to the phone. "One day at a time, Henry. That's all you need to focus on."

Clearing his throat, he nodded. "I can do that."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Her dad had left. Malia wasn't sure where to, but a bitter part of her wondered if he'd already given up on his plan to do better and was right back to drinking. It did give her a chance to do something she'd been avoiding though. Malia dug her phone out and stared at the receipt sitting on her desk. She stared and stared until eventually, she couldn't avoid it any longer. She plugged in the number and raised the phone to her ear. She held her breath as it rang, over and over, with no answer. She waited for the voicemail to kick in, leaving her in the dark about Derek's whereabouts or wellbeing. But then—

"Took you long enough."

The words simultaneously made her heart soar and sink. "Not the best word choice."

He paused. "You must have questions."

She snorted. "You could say that."

He hummed. "I'll answer them."

"When?"

"What are you doing now?"

She checked the time. It was late, but not so much that she was actually thinking of putting this conversation off. Pushing up from her desk chair, she said, "I'm meeting you."

"My house is a bust. There are cops parked outside." His voice turned sour then, "I'm not happy about that."

"Join the club." Malia moved to her dresser and pulled out a pair of thick, wool socks. "Can you pick me up? We can drive and talk."

"Give me twenty minutes." Not one for goodbyes, he hung up, and Malia rolled her eyes.

She pulled her socks on and then sat on the end of her bed, wondering if this was the best idea. It wasn't so long ago that getting into a car with Derek Hale was the worst thing she could do. But now… Despite everything, a part of her still trusted him. Or wanted to. He was one of only a few people who had any idea what she was going through. She was a newly turned werecoyote with no idea how it happened or what it meant for her going forward. A full moon was coming up and she was terrified that she was going to fully shift again. And that wasn't even touching on the alpha and the mess that was bound to occur.

That said, she needed a little reassurance she was making the right choice here.

Stiles picked up after two rings.

"Is it just me, or do Alpha-bits and Honeycomb taste a lot alike?"

"What?" She paused and then rolled her eyes. "I didn't eat your soggy cereal."

Stiles scoffed. "Waste of a good meal."

"Uh-huh. Look, I called for a reason."

"Because you said you would?"

"No. Because I called Derek."

"What do you mean you 'called' Derek? Since when do you have his number?"

"Since this morning." She chewed her lip. "I forgot to mention it, but I found it on a receipt in Kylie's room. I don't know when he left it, but…" She shook her head. "Look, the point is that I called him and he wants to meet."

"What, _now?"_ His voice raised. "I can't sneak out now. My dad's home. He'll notice."

"Good thing he doesn't want to meet you. He only wants to meet me." She shrugged. "I have questions that I'm pretty sure only he can answer, so… I'm going."

"That sounds like a statement, but since you called me, I'm pretty sure it's actually a question…"

Malia sighed. "I just need you to tell me this is the right thing to do."

A strangled noise left Stiles' throat. "Why would I do that? Derek Hale is an unreliable source that I'm pretty sure has the canine version of anti-social personality disorder. Or maybe just rabies. Can werewolves get rabies?"

"Stiles, be serious. I know you don't like him—"

"He's a _dick_ _!"_

"—but I also think you know he's not the real enemy here."

"I don't know… I'm personally of the view that we can have _multiple_ enemies on varying levels."

Malia cracked a smile. "Maybe. But do you really think Derek is one?"

"Depends on the day." He sighed. "Look, Malia, you obviously see something redeeming in him that I'm not privy to. I don't get it and I don't entirely support it, _but_ … I trust you. And if you think you can find whatever answers you're looking for by talking to him then… do it. Just, keep your phone on and text me frequent updates on your status. You know, so I'm not back here freaking the hell out."

"Okay. I will."

"And I want an update as soon as you get home, too."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine." In the distance, Malia could hear a car approaching. It ran much smoother than her dad's truck, so she could only assume it was Derek. It looked like he was early. "I think he's here. I'll text you in a bit."

"Okay. Stay safe."

"Uh-huh." She paused. "Thanks, Stiles."

"For what?"

"You know… supporting me… or whatever."

"Whoa. _Hey_. Don't get too sentimental on me."

She snorted. "Shut up. You know what I mean."

She could practically hear him smiling through the phone. "Things are totally crazy lately, but one thing that isn't going to change is us. I'm always going to be your best friend."

"Yeah, I know." With that, Malia said a quick goodbye, throwing out another 'uh-huh' when he again said to keep him updated.

Hanging up, she left her room and crossed the house to the front door. Derek's familiar car idled in the driveway. Taking a deep breath, Malia stepped onto her porch and pulled the door closed behind her. She walked forward, hoping that when she returned, she would have the answers she needed and, frankly, _deserved._

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _i know, i'm the woooorst. this update took so much longer than expected. i hit a massive writer's block and then, even after i finished it, i'd re-read it so many times that it was physically draining trying to re-read and edit it. but, i finally got it done. if you spot any mistakes, let me know and i'll fix them. i also had to cut out a few expected scenes, like malia's curious dream, which will be moved to the next chapter, because i actually expected to get to derek and malia's reunion this chapter, and we didn't even get there. that's also been moved to next chapter. malia and scott just kind of dominated the entire first half of this chapter and i can't even feel bad about it. i liked giving them a chance to explore their abilities and to bond with just each other. that said, i feel a little bad allison and stiles were so absent. next chapter will delve into the party, so there'll be more of the larger cast there_ — _allison, lydia, danny, stiles, etc._

 _for anybody wondering about scott's reticence to properly fight with malia, he will get over this, but i think it's hard for him to step out of the zone of feeling like he can't completely control his body and he's worried about what it'll do. while he trusts that he would never purposely hurt her, he doesn't quite trust his abilities yet. but he's going to have to change and adapt and we do see that there are moments when they're training where he's seeing more positives in what they're learning and how they can work together._

 _again, this felt a lot like a filler chapter. next chapter, depending on the length, should start bleeding at least somewhat into the next episode._

 _i hope you liked it! i'm going to try and get the next update written up a whole lot quicker! just a head's up, i am behind on answering comments, but i do plan to work on answering them over the next few days. all feedback is so very appreciated!_

 **things to look forward to next chapter** : _malia asks the hard questions;_ _malia has a curious dream; malia/lydia/allison friendship; the full moon's effects are being felt early; and jealousy rears its furry head. ;)_

 _thanks for reading. please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	23. lunatic 1

**word count** : 17,480  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : 1x08 - lunatic

* * *

 **XXIII**

Malia stared out the window of the Camaro at the passing scenery; a blur of trees and road signs, briefly lit by the headlights and the moon above. There was no destination in mind. Just away. Out of sight. Somewhere they wouldn't be spotted. She felt like they were on the run, and she wasn't sure what from. The police, the Argents, the moon? Or, more simply, _the truth_. The answers to the questions that were stirring in her guts enough that she felt nauseous. Was it anticipation or fear of what she might find out?

Derek cleared his throat beside her. "Your dad came home."

A statement, not a question. Said casually, too. As if she should expect that he would keep an eye out. Or maybe this was his way of making small-talk. She wasn't even kind of surprised that he _sucked_ at it. Of course he picked a landmine of a subject... Only, she wasn't going to let him.

"Where were you?" She shifted in her seat, glancing at him before turning her gaze forward, to the winding road ahead. "After you left the school, where'd you go?"

"Home first. What's left of it," he muttered bitterly. "Rested for a little while, tried to heal up, but then I heard the sirens and the cars coming. There aren't a lot of reasons why the cops would come looking for me, so, I left. Laid low for a while."

"And the note? When did you leave that?"

"Yesterday. I dropped by your house, but you weren't there." His fingers drummed against the steering wheel. "Figured it was smarter to leave a note than hang around and hope you were the only one to come back to the house."

She snorted. "Why? You think Stiles is going to turn you in to his dad?"

He raised an eyebrow, his mouth ticked up faintly. "He's done it before."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, when we found a dead body in your yard. The difference now is that we know you aren't the alpha and that's who was chasing us through the school."

"And who _you_ chased into the woods." Derek stared at her. "I wasn't expecting a coyote."

Malia clenched her teeth before grinding out, "Yeah. Neither was I."

His gaze cut away. "I wasn't sure. I had suspicions, but—"

" _Bullshit_."

Derek paused.

"You knew. You _definitely_ knew." She glared at him. "From the very beginning, right?"

After a beat, Derek pulled the car over to the side of the road, turning it off and sitting back. "We can sense when someone isn't completely human. There was something about you, something that stood out. I could tell you were a shifter, but I also knew you hadn't turned yet. That it was... dormant." He shook his head slowly. "For someone your age, that's rare. It's different for everybody, but most naturally born shifters turn at puberty, sometimes younger... I thought maybe it was because you didn't _know_ you were a shifter."

Her brow furrowed. "So, what, you were just waiting for something to trigger me?"

"Sort of."

"What does that mean? Were _you_ going to trigger me?"

"It doesn't work like that. Not really." He frowned. "Born shifters look forward to it. It's a rite of passage. We have ceremonies and celebrations and..." He sighed. "You were still figuring this stuff out. You were supporting Scott and learning about what it meant to be a werewolf. But we also had the alpha to worry about. So, yes, I was hoping you would shift, and soon. Because I could use your help."

That was the crux of it, wasn't it? That to him, her turning was just a tool. An _advantage_. When to her it was life altering. "What about what _I_ want? What _I_ need? You think any of this is easy? You were raised in this world, Derek. I wasn't! I was figuring it out _for_ Scott. Because this was his new reality. It wasn't supposed to be _mine!"_

"Except it was." His voice was firm and knowing and it only served to piss her off. "It was always going to be this way. It was only sped up because—"

"Because the Alpha was _mauling_ my best friend right in front of me. Because I thought he was going to die. And I _reacted_. I had to do something and so I—"

"You let instinct take over. Your instinct was to _protect_ and so your shifter side came out to do that." His eyes met hers searchingly. "There's always a lead up. Some part of you had to notice something was different. Maybe your eyes were getting better or you were getting faster or you could hear things you couldn't hear before. But all of this, from the very beginning, has just been one big event from triggering you. I'm surprised the attack at the video store didn't do it."

Malia took a deep breath and sat forward, hunching her shoulders and rubbing her hands over her face. "How did it happen? That's the part I don't get. You keep saying I'm a born shifter. That means one of my parents has to be one, too. Right?"

Derek grew quiet.

After a few seconds, she looked up and turned a frown on him. "You said you'd answer my questions."

"I don't have all the answers yet."

Her eyes narrowed. "But you know more than you're telling me."

He pressed his lips flat.

Malia let out a scoffing laugh and shoved the door open. She climbed out, slamming the door behind her, and walked into the field. The grass was long, enough that it brushed her fingertips as her hands hung limp at her sides. She walked away from him, not entirely sure where she was going or what she was doing, just that she needed some distance.

It wasn't long before she heard him get out of the car, too. His approach was slower, giving her time to acclimate. But all it did was make her feel like an animal he was trying not to spook.

She whirled around to face him, angry and stubborn. "I helped you."

Derek met her fierce gaze and nodded, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket.

"When Scott and Stiles thought we couldn't trust you, when they told me to stay away from you, when they were so sure that you were the Alpha, that you turned Scott— I still talked to you. I still _listened_ to what you had to say."

He nodded again.

"When you had nowhere to go, when Kate was hunting you, I let you stay in my home. In Kylie's _room!_ "

His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Malia felt her eyes burn. "And even when you wouldn't tell me everything, when you'd only give me bits and pieces of the story, _scraps_ of information, I still trusted you."

"I know."

"Then why?" She threw her hands up. "Why would you lie to me about this? Why wouldn't you tell me?"

He didn't answer.

Angry now, she bared her teeth at him, long and sharp and far from human. "You were supposed to be my friend!"

He didn't look surprised, didn't even flinch. He stayed calm and composed. "I am your friend."

" _No_ , you aren't." She marched toward him, her chest heaving and her heart beating too quick. "I have friends. Good friends. _Amazing_ friends. And none of them would keep this from me."

"No? Because you tell them everything, right?" His voice started to raise, the first sign that he wasn't as unmoved by this as he appeared. "You never lie to them? Not even to keep them safe?"

Her brow furrowed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"What about Allison, Malia? What about the secret you're keeping from her, huh?" He stared at her knowingly, his eyebrows hiked. "What about Erica and Jackson? Do they still think it was a cougar that attacked them?"

"That's different."

He smiled sarcastically. "How?"

"Because it's not _about_ them! It's not who they are. They don't have to be afraid of what they might do or who they might hurt. They don't have to wonder what could have happened if they'd shifted in the supermarket or at school where anybody could've been hurt. They don't have to be afraid they're going to turn into an animal and never be _human_ again!" She shoved at his chest, making him stumble back. "Do you know what that was like? My entire body felt like it was turning inside out. My skin felt like it was tearing open. And then I was just _stuck_ there. The coyote had complete control of everything I was doing. _She_ attacked the Alpha, but I'm the one who had to taste its blood in my mouth. _She_ chased the Alpha into the woods, ready to fight it and kill it, and after that, she was just going to live out there. Away from everyone and everything. That's what she wants! She doesn't want _me_. She doesn't want to be human. She wants to hide. And now every time something sets me off, when the full moon comes on Monday, I'm going to be scared that she's going to do it again. Only maybe this time, she wins, and I don't come back."

"I didn't know—"

"This is my _life_." Her voice cracked. "Do you get that?"

His gaze dropped away.

"When Scott turned, I wanted to be there. I wanted to help him. So, if that meant talking to you, if that meant getting into your car and dealing with your shady, monosyllabic bullshit, then fine. At least I knew that you were trying, that you _wanted_ to help. That you weren't the bad guy."

"Has that changed?"

"You tell me."

Derek stared at her. It took him a moment, but eventually, he admitted, "I'm not used to this. I'm not used to answering to people. For the last six years, all I had was Laura. And now I'm alone. Now, I have no one. So, excuse me if I'm not braiding best friend bracelets for us. But, I do trust you. That's why I come to you. That's why I'm trying to tell you what you need to know."

"But you aren't. You're still hiding something from me. I can tell!"

He clenched his teeth. "What I know for sure is that you were born this way. This wasn't the Alpha. You're a werecoyote. And the fact that you can shift completely is a gift." He held his hands up, expecting her offended scoff. "It doesn't seem like it now, but it will one day. There aren't a lot of shifters who can do it. My mom and my sister were the only two I ever met. I know there are others, but they're rare. In our culture, that's an honor. And I know that you have some problems with that. I'll help you as much as I can. But, Malia... Just like with Scott, you're going to have to accept this. There's no turning back. There's no turning it off. This is who you are and it's who you were always meant to be."

Malia wanted to lash out. She wanted to push and shove and _hurt_ him. But instead, her mouth trembled, her hands shook, and her heart squeezed. " _Why?_ "

Something soft and knowing crossed his face then. Drawing his hands out from his pockets, he walked to her, and reached out, taking her shoulders. "You're strong. You'll get through this."

Dragging in a thick, shaking breath, she shook her head. "Was it my mom? Did I just never notice?"

He didn't say anything; he didn't confirm or deny it. Instead, he pulled her forward and into a hug. Malia wondered if that was better or worse. Was her mom a werecoyote that whole time and she just didn't know? Did she keep it hidden from her or all of them? Did her dad know? He would've said something, wouldn't he? It was hard to imagine that her mom had a secret that big. But that was the only way, right? It had to be her mom. Because her dad... He didn't have the self-control to be a shifter. Not unless the drinking helped subdue it somehow. She doubted that, though.

Derek patted her back a little roughly and she wondered how long it had been since he showed any kind of affection. Or maybe that was how it was with shifters.

A good minute passed before she started to pull away, reaching up to rub her sleeves over her face, sniffling loudly. "This doesn't mean I forgive you."

His mouth curled faintly. "Wouldn't expect it to be that easy."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm glad you aren't dead in a ditch somewhere, though."

Derek nodded. "You wanna tell me why everyone seems to think I'm the one that attacked the school?"

Her lips pursed. "A slip of the tongue, mostly."

His eyes narrowed.

"The police needed a suspect. Scott and Stiles thought you were dead—"

"So, they said it was me?" He took a deep breath and shook his head. "They couldn't just say it was a stranger? That they hadn't seen their face?"

Malia shrugged. "People were asking questions. Scott panicked. He said it was you. If it makes you feel better, not everybody's convinced. Danny and Erica seem to think it was someone else. They're not saying who, just that you don't make a whole lot of sense. Even Allison is a little on the fence."

"Great. That doesn't stop the police from trying to track me down."

"Scott can say it was someone else, that maybe he didn't get the best look at the attacker. But they're still going to want you to come in for questioning."

"Yeah, and since my blood is probably all over that place, they're going to know I was there. And then they're going to wonder where that blood came from when I'm clearly not hurt." He groaned. "This is ridiculous."

"In their defense, you were apparently skewered by the Alpha."

"And I healed." He let out a long-suffering sigh. "This is going to complicate things, you know? I can't move around here like I used to. They're going to be looking for me. Which means I also can't go home. Not for a while yet."

Malia crossed her arms and shrugged. "So, what are you going to do?"

He kicked at the ground. "I'll figure it out."

She hummed, and then stared at him a beat. "Scott and I have been practicing. Basic defense mostly. But also just testing what we can do now."

"How's that going?"

She shrugged. "He doesn't want to hurt me, so he holds back."

"You don't like that."

"I can't learn that way. The other stuff helps, but I need to know that I can handle myself in a fight."

Derek nodded. "What are you doing Sunday?"

"Ice skating with Allison and Lydia."

"Until when?"

She shrugged. "They're staying over tomorrow night. We'll probably go to the rink early."

"Text me after. We can meet up. I'll teach you."

Malia blinked, mildly surprised. "Teach me what?"

He started backing up, toward the car. "Everything I know."

"What, in an afternoon?" Snorting, she followed him. "Either you don't know much or you think I'm a fast learner."

Derek laughed under his breath. "We'll go with the second one."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

When Malia returned home, her dad's truck was still missing. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she rolled her eyes. For a split second, she'd kind of hoped he was being serious about turning his life around. Now, she wasn't so sure.

"Did he explain where he went?" Derek wondered.

Malia shook her head. "Not really. Just showed back up, said he was sorry for... _everything_ and that he was going to be better."

"Do you believe him?"

She chewed her lip. "I want to."

"But, you don't."

Almost defensively, she said, "He doesn't exactly have a great track record."

Derek hummed. "Has he ever lied to you?"

She paused and looked over at him. "Not directly... Last time, when I had to stay with Scott, he just said that things would be better when he got back. And they were, for a while."

"Addictions are hard to kick. Even with the best intentions." Derek's words were measured, but the weight of them made it sound like he was speaking from personal experience. It made her wonder.

"Can shifters even get addicted?"

"Not to alcohol. Our metabolism burns through it too quickly."

"But to other things?"

"There are herbs that affect us, if you know how to use them. But drugs aren't the only thing a person can get addicted to." He paused. "Power, winning, killing, adrenaline... people."

"People?"

"Love... or what you think is love..." His brow knit and he stared ahead, something haunted about his expression. "It can make people do crazy things."

Malia's gaze fell, resting on the dashboard. "Yeah, well, my dad's human and I'm not sure he'll be kicking alcohol anytime soon."

"You could try giving him the benefit of the doubt." He shrugged. "Doesn't mean you have to expect perfection. Maybe just trying is enough for now."

"Maybe." Unbuckling her seat belt, she shifted to see him. "Where are you staying tonight?"

"I've got a place. It's not perfect, but it'll work for now."

"Vague, but whatever." She pushed the door open then and hopped out. "Try not to die or get arrested and I'll see you Sunday."

With that, she closed the door and made her way to the house. Climbing the porch, she dug her keys out to let herself inside. The house was quiet and empty outside of Shiloh's faint snoring. Kicking her shoes off, Malia shut and locked the door before making her way to her bedroom. Shedding her clothes for a pair of comfy pajamas, she climbed into bed and grabbed her phone.

She sent Stiles a third 'Green' text and then thumbed open Scott's last message— _'your dad is at my place… he's talking to my mom'_

Malia felt a weight lift off her chest and breathed a sigh of relief. She texted back— ' _i saw him earlier. didn't know he was headed to your place tho_.'

A bubble appeared, showing Scott was typing something back. It disappeared abruptly, no message attached, and she frowned. And then her phone rang. Rolling her eyes, she answered it. "Hey."

"Hey. Figured it was easier to just call you."

"Probably." She shifted onto her back and turned speaker phone on, resting it on her chest so she wouldn't have to hold it up. "What time did he show up, do you remember?"

"A couple hours ago. He wasn't here long. Mom left, too." He paused. "She said something about a meeting... My dad went to those for a while. He might still, actually. I don't know."

"AA," she said knowingly. "He tried that last time. But then he'd get busy and stopped going."

"Maybe it'll be different this time."

Malia inhaled deeply. Deciding to change the subject, she told him, "I talked to Derek."

"How'd it go?"

She frowned. "I yelled a lot. But, mostly good."

"Does he think it was your mom?"

"He didn't say. He was kind of tight-lipped. He's not happy about the police looking for him either, but..." She shrugged. "I don't know. He said he could always tell. That shifters can feel it when someone is like them... Did you feel anything when you were around me?"

"I'm still figuring a lot of this stuff out. If I did, I don't think I would've known what it was."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." She stared at the ceiling. "Did you know natural born shifters have parties when they shift for the first time? Derek said it was a celebration." Her brow furrowed. "I keep wondering what it would've been like. If it was my mom and she told me eventually, would it be different? Maybe I would've shifted when I was younger. Maybe I could've helped you more if I knew what it was like."

"You helped me a lot already."

Malia's mouth kicked up at the corner. "I know, but... I just think it'd be different if she was here. A lot of things would."

Scott hummed. "What else did he say?"

"That shifting into a full coyote was rare and a gift and blah, blah, blah. It doesn't feel like a gift. It feels like a _curse_."

"You didn't look so cursed today, when we were training."

She snorted. "It was fun."

"Yeah, it was." He paused before adding, "I liked running with you."

Malia's mouth inched up in a smile. "Me, too. We can do it tomorrow if you want. Allison and Lydia will be over later. We're going to a party at Danny's. But my morning is free."

"Uh, yeah, I'm up for that. What time's good?"

"How much are you going to sleep in?"

He laughed, a rumble from his chest. "How's ten?"

"Ten works." A yawn caught her off guard then, wide enough that she felt her jaw crack. "I should get some sleep."

"Okay." He paused. "You're okay, though? After your dad and then Derek..."

Malia nodded, despite knowing he couldn't see her. "It's been a pretty emotional night, but yeah, I think I'm okay."

"Good."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Night."

After hanging up, Malia plugged her phone in and placed it on her bedside table. Considering Stiles hadn't immediately texted back, she figured he'd fallen asleep at some point. Flipping her lamp off, she rolled over and hugged her pillow. Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing and not turning over the emotionally draining conversations of the last few hours. But, her mind wouldn't cooperate, and instead she spent a good hour just stuck in her head, wondering what else Derek knew and whether her dad really would put some long-term effort into things.

It was almost midnight when she heard the rattling noise of her dad's truck coming down the road. Eyes open, she stared at her wall, lit by a shaft of moonlight, and waited. She listened to the radio cut out and the engine shut down, the creak of his door opening and the crunch of gravel under his boots. He mumbled under his breath as he walked up the driveway and crossed the porch. The old wood slats whined under his steps, singing their age and a lifetime of neglect. His keys jangled as he unlocked the door and she heard the distinct click as he turned on the lights in the living room.

Even from a distance, she could smell him. Irish Spring soap, stale coffee, and mint gum. But, surprisingly, not a whiff of alcohol. She listened to him move around the living room for a while, waiting for the tell-tale _crack_ of him opening a can of beer or twisting the cap off a bottle, but it never came. He took a seat on the couch, flipped on the television, and just relaxed. After a while, he patted the couch to invite a sleepy but awake Shiloh up to sit with him. And that was where he stayed; sober and clearly distracted.

Malia let her eyes fall closed once more. This time, it was a little easier to fall asleep.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

 _Malia knew these woods like the back of her hand. All ten years of her life had been spent in or around them. Her mom loved to take them on hikes; crossing logs, hopping atop rocks, sloshing through ankle-deep creeks, they navigated the woods like all of it was their backyard. When Malia was old enough, she was allowed to venture out into the woods without her parents there to watch her. Kylie was always right at her heels, following wherever she went. There were places Malia wasn't supposed to go. She couldn't cross the highway, for one. And she wasn't allowed to walk too far in any one direction, otherwise it'd grow too dark for her to see where she was going when it was time to come home. Malia had favorite places in the woods; clearings and trees and caves she liked to visit. She learned early what kind of berries she could and couldn't eat, which bushes would make her itchy and which were harmless, and she had her fair share of scrapes and bruises, twisted ankles and broken bones. But, she persevered._

 _She knew where she was going now and her legs never slowed as she ran and ran and ran. She crossed a creek in three quick strides, over a mossy fallen log that her mom always warned her was too loose and unstable for her to be walking on. She ran through the long grass and the wildflowers, their petals closed for the night. Lightning bugs left their perches and filled the sky, but she paid them no mind. Her heart was racing so fast and so hard it made her chest hurt. Or maybe that was something else. The vice around her heart wouldn't let up and she had a feeling that when she got to where she was going, it would only get stronger._

 _Her dad had tried to grab her before she ran. He'd shouted her name and raced after her, fingers grabbing at the back of her overalls, trying to snag her and draw her back. But, he'd been too slow. Probably because he'd had to get up off his knees to chase after her, which gave her a good head start._

 _She was fast. That's what her mom always told her._ 'You've got two fast feet under you, Ladybug. You better use them.'

 _And she did. Malia ran whenever and wherever she could. She liked how the wind felt on her face and blowing through her hair. How her lungs squeezed with each deep gulp of air. But she'd never run like this before. Never run so fast it almost felt like she was flying. The ground was solid underneath her, but she was going a lot farther than she ever had. Her legs almost felt numb, but they never slowed._

 _She could hear the noise now._

 _Sirens and a loud, grinding noise. It made her stomach hurt._

 _She broke through the trees and stumbled to a stop. There were police everywhere, shouting instructions at each other, too far and too busy to notice her. There was an ambulance and a fire truck and a tow truck, too. A silver car was turned over in the middle, gouged earth all around it. A tree was broken, laying half on top of the car, and a road sign was flat on the ground, twisted metal sticking out from the ground._

 _Malia clenched her hands into tiny fists and tried to catch her breath. Her lungs squeezed, but not in the way she liked. Her chest ached and her eyes burned and her throat felt like fire._

 _That was her car._

 _That was her mom's car._

 _The same car she'd watched drive away just minutes after yelling at her mom and her sister,_ 'I hate you! And I hope you die!'

 _Malia stared at gnarled metal. The door was caved in on one side and missing on the other. The windshield was blown out, the windows cracked or shattered completely. She could see a doll, her sister's doll, laying in the dirt. There was something red on its head. Like juice or paint or—_ blood.

 _Malia's knees shook and she gulped in air. She gulped and gulped but her lungs still_ screamed. _They squeezed and twisted and filled with a sound that wouldn't leave, burning and clawing its way up her throat. Her legs gave out and she dropped to the ground. And then her mouth was open, ready to let that terrible, awful scream out, only it didn't get a chance to._

 _Suddenly, someone was holding her; arms banded around her body and a shroud covered her eyes. Malia was turned around abruptly, away from the car, from the doll, from everything. She kicked and screamed and tried to get free, but she couldn't. She tried and tried, but eventually, her body gave up. She went limp, exhausted and lost and so many other things. Thing she didn't have names for; things she'd never felt before._

 _The arms loosened around her and whoever it was holding her, moved. They shifted to kneel in front of her, their hands still carefully gripping Malia's arms, holding her up. It was a woman with long, dark hair, freckles on her cheeks, and tears in her brown eyes. When she smiled, her lips trembled._

 _"Malia," she said, staring at her searchingly. "Malia, can you hear me?"_

 _Malia stared at her._

 _The woman shook her head. "Why did you come here?"_

 _"My mom," she croaked. "And Kylie. The police officer said..." She tried to turn her head, to see the car, the police, the ambulance._

 _"Don't. Don't look." A hand caught Malia's chin, holding her still. "You shouldn't have come here. This isn't how you want to remember them."_

 _Malia's eyes blurred as tears filled them. "I want my mom... I want Kylie."_

 _"I know. Shh, hey, I know. I'm so... I'm so sorry. I didn't know. If I could change it... If I could bring them back..." The woman drew her forward then, hugging Malia tight to her, her hand shakily brushing through Malia's hair. "Okay. Okay, here's what we're going to do... I'm going to bring you home. Your dad is probably very worried. And you're going to forget this, okay? You shouldn't remember them like this."_

 _Malia's brow furrowed. "What?"_

 _She leaned back then and smiled at Malia again, her own cheeks damp and her eyes red-rimmed. "I wasn't much older than you when I lost my mom. I wasn't ready. I don't think we ever really are. But it's harder when we see it. When we know what that looks like. I don't want that for you. I want you to remember your mom how she was. Not like this. Not this place." She shook her head and brushed Malia's hair back from her face. "You know your mom loved you, right? And Kylie, your sister. She loved you, too."_

 _Malia nodded._

 _"Think about them, okay? Think about only them."_

 _Malia's chin shook. "But I said something bad. I didn't mean it."_

 _"It's okay. I think they'd forgive you."_

 _Tears dribbled down Malia's cheeks. "I didn't say sorry."_

 _The woman swallowed tightly. "Sometimes, we forgive people even when they don't say sorry. Because we know who they are in their hearts. And we know that even though they make mistakes and they say things that hurt, they don't mean them."_

 _Malia nodded slowly._

 _The woman reached around to Malia's nape and in the same moment that Malia felt a pinching sensation there, enough to make her wince and jerk, she saw the bright red glow of the woman's eyes. Malia's mouth opened— to gasp or scream or shout, she wasn't sure. But nothing came. Her vision blacked out and the noise of everything behind her, of the people and the sirens, it all went away._

 _When Malia next opened her eyes, she was moving. She turned her head, her sleepy gaze falling on a woman. Or, the underside of her chin, at least. That, and the trees. High above, their reaching branches blotted out the sky. Slivers of moonlight trying desperately to penetrate through. And then, wood. The familiar sight of her porch roof stared back at her._

 _The woman carried her to a cushioned bench and placed her down on top of it. She knelt in front of Malia, whose eyes were just barely cracked open. Brushing her fingers through Malia's hair, she rubbed a gentle thumb against her cheek. "One day... I'll explain everything. And I hope you forgive me." With that, the woman dropped a quiet kiss on Malia's head, stood, and left._

 _Malia watched her disappear into the trees like a ghost. There and gone._

 _Her eyes drifted closed then and when they would open, she wouldn't remember the crash site or the woman who took her away from it. The last thing she would remember would be her father falling to his knees as the police officer told him that his wife and his daughter had died in an accident._

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia's eyes shot open and she gulped in a deep breath of air. Her body shuddered, and she stared, wide-eyed, at— the sky? Blinking wildly, she looked around, and abruptly realized that she was not, in fact, tucked comfortably in her bed at home. No, she was in the woods. Specifically, she was at the site of the accident. And she was buck naked.

Malia hugged her arms around herself as she looked around wildly, her hair tangled, twigs and leaves stuck to it. She looked down at herself, confused, and found that her hands and feet were covered in a dark, dried mud. Gritting her teeth, she realized with a snarl that she must've shifted in her sleep and come back out here. Hadn't Scott said that he'd shifted once and woken up in the middle of the woods? At least he'd been dressed. She wasn't so lucky.

Pulling herself together, she pushed up from the ground, and took a look around. It was early. Enough that the sun was just barely lighting the sky. The odds of running into anyone were slim to none. That wasn't going to make the trek back to her house, completely naked, any better, though. Sighing, she turned on her heel and marched into the trees. The sooner she got home, the better.

As she started walking at a fast clip, her mind was caught between her current predicament and her strange dream. The woman who'd found her was familiar, but she just couldn't put her finger on why... She was a shifter, obviously. An alpha, to be specific. But was it all just a weird dream or something more than that? Had Malia really run off and found herself at the crash site when she was a kid? Did that woman find her? And if she had, _why?_ How did she know Malia or her family?

Malia spent the whole walk home turning those questions over but found no answers. She crawled through her bedroom window and made her way to her bathroom to shower off the forest. It was unnerving, just like it had been before. She had no recollection of leaving her room and becoming the coyote. Was it always going to be like this? At least this time she didn't have to feel the pain of the transformation…

The bathtub was left with a grimy ring around the bottom, a collection of twigs and leaves she would eventually have to toss away. Exhausted, she put it on her mental to-do list and left her bathroom to pull on some pajamas and get some sleep. Crawling into bed, she checked the time on her phone. It was almost seven. She could sleep for another two hours. Pulling the blanket up high, she closed her eyes and hoped that when she opened them, she'd still be in her bed.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia woke up groggy. Like she hadn't had much sleep at all. Given her strange dream and where she'd woken up the first time, she wasn't so sure she had. Kicking off her blankets, she pulled herself out of bed despite the bone-deep protest of her body. All she wanted to do was turn around, face plant into her pillow, and go right back to sleep. But it was a little after nine and she needed to get up and dressed. Scott would be there soon for them to go on their run.

Scrubbing a fist over her crusty eyes, Malia's feet dragged as she went through her morning process. She traded her pajamas for a pair of running pants and a tank top and tucked her phone in the pocket of her running jacket. Pulling on a pair of socks, she carried her running shoes with her, the backs hooked on her crooked fingers.

The sight in her kitchen was unexpected and, thus, jarring. Her dad was not only awake, but up and walking around, even whistling to himself. There were grocery bags on the counter, some of them full to bursting, others empty and stacked together. The pantry door was open and she could see from her vantage point that was three brand new boxes of cereal, Kraft Dinner, dry pasta, pancake mix, jars of pasta sauce, and a collection of canned foods lining the shelves. The fridge door was held open by Henry's extended leg as he passed things from the counter into the fridge. Condiments, juice, milk, eggs, cheese, fruit. She wasn't sure her fridge had ever been this full, at least not since her mother's death. Rarely, if ever, did Henry let it get empty, but it was never quite this bright with a variety of food to pick from. They tended to stick to the basics and she made due. This was something else. _Progress_ , a small, hopeful voice whispered in her head.

"Does Walmart know you cleaned them out?"

Henry looked up, his eyebrows arched, and a slow, hesitant smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. "You won't rat me out if I say no, will you?"

Malia shrugged and tucked her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "You're up early."

"So are you." He eyed her quickly. "Going for a run?"

She nodded. "Yeah. With Scott. He'll be here soon."

"Oh." He paused. "I was hoping I could make us breakfast. Nothing fancy. Just pancakes, some bacon. Or sausages. Which one do you like?"

"Either's fine." She stared at him a beat. "I don't know how long we'll be."

"Why don't you text me on your way back and I'll get the food going?" He let the fridge door close and moved to the empty bags, gathering them up and tying them in knots to be tucked under the sink for later use. Her mom used to hate that. She was a staunch fabric bag user and brought hers with her every time she went to a store. She kept them in her trunk so she wouldn't forget them. Henry never remembered, not until he was at the counter paying and they asked if he wanted paper or plastic.

"Malia?"

"Hm?" She shook herself out of her memory and turned to him. "What?"

"I said you can invite Scott to breakfast, if it'll make you feel better."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I know you're still mad at me, I get it, and things feel awkward right now. They might for a while. But if having Scott around helps you feel less awkward, then bring him along."

She chewed the inside of her cheek. "Maybe. I'll see."

"Okay." He drummed his fingers on the countertop. "But you'll text me on your way home? We haven't had pancakes in a while. I was gonna pick up some strawberries, too, but a guy in produce told me they were out of season, they'd probably taste a little sour. He suggested chocolate chips." He smiled then. "I used to make smiley faces with them, you remember that? And then I'd slice up banana and you and Kylie, you'd always use the banana pieces to give your pancakes hair and mustaches."

Malia nodded slowly. "I remember."

"Too old for that now, I guess."

She shrugged. "Never too old for chocolate chips."

He smiled softly. "Good."

A knock at the door drew her eye then and Malia crossed the floor to it. Swinging it open, she found a grinning Scott standing on her porch. "Hey."

"Hi." She glanced back at her dad. "I'll text you in a while."

"All right. Have a good run." He leaned to the side to get a look at Scott and waved. "Good morning, Scott."

"Hey, Mister Tate."

Malia stepped out onto the porch, called out a hasty 'bye,' and pulled the door closed.

"He looks good," Scott noted. "Uh, you know, well-rested."

She rolled her eyes. "You mean not drunk?"

He paused and then nodded. "That, too."

"Come on. We'll stretch and then we'll head for the lookout." She walked down the stairs to the driveway, passing his bike as she went. "Dad invited you to breakfast, if you want. It's probably gonna be banana chocolate chip pancakes because he's on a nostalgia kick or something."

Scott grinned. "Cool."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to. It might be weird."

"For you or me?"

"For everyone." She sighed. "He's being weird. I'm being weird. And you'll just be caught in the middle of it."

Scott shrugged. "I can do that."

She looked over at him, her brow knit. "Really?"

"Are you kidding? You had me at banana chocolate chip pancakes."

Snorting, she gave his shoulder a shove. "Whatever."

"Seriously though... If you want me there, I'll be there."

Malia paused her steps and turned to him. "I do."

"Then I'm there." He grinned then. "Race you to the trail."

As he took off running, Malia shook her head. A burst of warmth bloomed in her chest as she gave chase.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Out of breath and sweating, Scott felt _amazing_. Every time he exerted himself, he waited for that tell-tale pinch in his lungs, that closing sensation of his throat, and the sudden and consuming swamping feeling that came with realizing his asthma was back to interfere with his life. Only, it never came. Malia pushed his limits, even past what his new abilities were used to, and there was a burn in his chest. But it felt good. It mixed with the adrenaline pumping through him to the point where he felt light on his feet and capable of anything.

"You look happy." Malia stared up at him from her seat on the grass, one leg stretched out while the other was curved in, her foot planted against her thigh as she stretched. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair a little messy, but she looked content, too.

"I am." Scott's hands settled on his hips. "When I was a kid and my lungs would start to hurt, I think it was the look on my mom's face that scared me more... She was always so strong, so when she freaked out, it made it even worse. Like, it _had_ to be serious or she wouldn't look like that." He shook his head. "And now... I don't have to worry about that, which is weird, but also maybe one of the best parts of any of this. I— I don't have to worry that one day, I'm just not going to catch my breath, no matter how hard I try. My lungs are better and stronger than ever and that's..." His mouth widened in a grin. "That's a gift."

Malia stared up at her, her expression soft. "Yeah, it is."

Scott knew his smile was just as goofy as it felt, but he couldn't be bothered to hide it. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

Sighing, she leaned back, planting her hands on the grass. "I'm ready for pancakes. Awkward conversation with my dad... not so much."

"Maybe it won't be as bad as you think."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow and shrugged. "Maybe."

"Come on." He held his hands out to her. "If it gets awkward, I'll change the subject or something."

Malia took his hands and let him haul her to her feet. She reached around and dusted grass off herself and then took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's get this over with."

They crossed the lawn and hopped onto the porch. The door was left open and Shiloh came out to see them, her tail wagging excitedly. Malia reached down to scrub her fingers over Shiloh's ears before stepping out of the way for Scott to come inside, too.

On the table was a plate stacked high with pancakes, a bowl of sausages next to a pile of extra crispy bacon. There was a jug of juice and milk, plates and cutlery, butter and syrup, all at the ready. It was obvious that Henry had really gone out of his way to make sure breakfast was perfect. As much as Scott was often worried about Malia and frustrated over her situation, he waffled back and forth in how felt about Henry Tate. Having a father that also drank too much and put his family second left scars that Scott was still trying to heal. He tried to give Henry the benefit of the doubt; at least he stayed. But, it was hard not to feel like he could be doing more. At the same time, he knew that Malia loved her father, even if she often felt neglected and forgotten. All Scott really wanted was for Malia to be happy, if that meant having her father there, then great. As of this moment, Henry looked on board with that idea. Time would tell how dedicated he was to it.

"I, uh, put out a little of everything." Henry wiped his hands on a dishtowel. "You like syrup, right? I picked up some jam if you want that instead. Your mom used to can her own jelly, so she was partial to that. I don't think we have any left, so I hope the stuff they sell at the supermarket's half as good."

Malia glanced at him and then to the table. "Syrup's fine."

"All right, well, sit down. Plenty to go around. Dig in." Henry went about serving himself a mug of coffee, his shoulders hunched and his hands shaking a little as he tried to get it going.

Scott took a seat at the table and looked over to Malia, brows raised.

Slowly, she followed after him, sinking down into a chair and resting her elbows on the table as she looked out over everything. "That's... a lot of pancakes."

"Thought you'd be extra hungry after your run," Henry said, adding sugar to his coffee.

"We are." Scott nodded. "Thanks for inviting me, Mr. Tate."

"Happy to have you, Scott." Taking a deep breath, Henry turned around and made his way to the table, taking a seat across from Scott and kitty-corner to Malia. "How was your run?"

When Malia didn't respond, Scott answered for her. "Uh, it was good. Malia kicked my ass. She's fast."

Henry grinned. "She is. Always had been. Had a hard time keeping her still when she was little." He used his fork to spear a couple pancakes and bring them over to his plate. "Track must be starting up soon, huh? That'll be good. If you get me your schedule, I'll make sure I take time off to come to your meets."

"I don't know if I'm doing track this year."

Scott's hand paused, fork poised just short of his mouth. "What?"

"Since when?" Henry wondered, his brow furrowed. "You love track."

Malia shrugged. "I've got a lot on my plate right now. I don't think adding track on top of it is going to help."

Scott stared at her. "Are you sure? Maybe you could try it out for a couple weeks, see if there's a way you can balance things."

Malia pursed her lips. "I'll think about it."

"Good." Henry nodded. "If track makes you happy, you should keep it up."

Malia shoved a piece of bacon in her mouth so she didn't have to answer.

"How's work?" Scott wondered, turning to Henry.

"It's been good. Busy. How about you? You're training at that animal clinic, aren't you?"

"Yeah. For a while now. I like it. Dr. Deaton's been great and I'm learning a lot."

"Good for you." Henry sawed off a bite of pancake with the edge of his fork. "I think your mom said something about vet school."

"Eventually, yeah. I'll have to make it through high school first, then UC Davis."

"It's good to have a plan. You can start preparing for it early."

A muscle ticked in Malia's cheek and she glared down at her pancakes.

Scott winced. He forgot that she still wasn't sure what she wanted to do post-high school. She always tensed up when they talked about it. "So, is this your recipe? For the pancakes?"

"Nope, just good old fashioned boxed stuff. I added the chocolate chips. I was gonna chop up some banana too, but I skipped it."

"I don't think I've ever had banana in my pancakes." Scott shrugged. "My mom usually adds blueberries."

"Evelyn used to make a lot of this stuff from scratch. I'm not doing it much justice. But, it's edible."

"It's pretty good," Scott agreed.

The table grew quiet after that, nothing but the scrape and scuff of cutlery on plates and the odd slurp of coffee or juice. Scott felt a bubble of anxiety well up in his stomach. His gaze bounced from Malia to Henry and back. Henry's own gaze ping-ponged between his food and Malia. But Malia wouldn't look at anything except the bowl holding the sausages and bacon.

Scott reached over, grabbed some bacon out with the tongs, and heaped it on her plate.

Malia's mouth twitched.

Henry cleared his throat. "So, what do you have planned for today?"

She glanced at him. "I'm hanging out with Allison and Lydia today. They wanted to know if they could stay over tonight."

Henry paused. "Allison and Lydia... I think I've met Allison, right?"

"Yeah. She's come over a couple times. Lydia's one of Allison's friends. There's a late-night movie playing. We were gonna see that, then come back here. If that's okay."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's fine. Been a long time since you had a sleepover."

Scott suddenly choked on a piece of pancake and had to slam his fist against his chest to dislodge it. He could feel his face turning red and reached for his glass of juice to help push the food down.

Malia's hand found his elbow and squeezed. "All right?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah." His voice came out as a croak. "Yeah, just..." He coughed. "Went down the wrong way."

"Okay..." Malia's gaze lingered on him before eventually moving to her dad. "Uh, they'll be here later. Probably around 6 or 7."

Henry nodded. "I don't know if I'll be here then. But, I can make you girls something to eat for the morning."

"Uh, sure." Malia shrugged. "We're going skating tomorrow, too."

Henry looked at her a moment, his brow furrowed and a faint smile pulling at his mouth. "You turned into a regular social butterfly, huh?"

Malia's brows hiked. "What? _No_. It's two people. It's not that big a deal."

Scott bit his lip to hide his own smile and ducked his head, staring at his food.

"Shut up," Malia muttered, flicking his wrist with her fingers.

"I didn't say anything."

She stared at him knowingly. "I made _one_ friend. Singular. Lydia's a tag-along."

Scott's brows hiked. "What about Danny? Or Erica?"

She shrugged and leaned back in her seat.

"Who's Danny?" Henry wondered. "Is that the boy that dropped you off last night?"

Malia sighed. "No, that was Cole."

"All I'm hearing is a lot of different names and a whole lot of evidence you're making more friends." Henry grinned, looking proud and excited. "It's good for you."

"Whatever." Malia was quick to focus back on her food, but Scott could see the tiny uptick of her mouth.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After breakfast, Malia followed Scott out onto the porch. Shiloh was nosing around the grass, sniffing at any- and everything. "Thanks for that," she said.

Scott turned to face her. "For what?"

"Sticking around. It was awkward, but it probably would've been a lot worse without you there."

Nodding, Scott glanced at the closed front door and then back to her. "He's trying."

"I know." She walked to the pillar and leaned back against it. "I just don't know how long it'll last."

"Maybe this time is different." Scott searched her face. "Would you want that?"

"Yeah, sure. I just... I don't know what that looks like. At least I knew what to expect before. All of this is new. He's talking about my mom and Kylie and he's teasing me about dumb things like sleepovers and friends." Her mouth twisted up. "It's _weird_."

"Good weird or bad weird?"

"Just weird. I don't know." She bit her lip and let her gaze fall to the floor. "It feels fake. Like we're just forgetting all the bad stuff and playing Stepford family."

"So, tell him that." Scott shrugged. "I don't think he knows what he's doing either. He's just trying stuff out and seeing what works. Seeing what'll make you talk to him."

Malia tipped her head back and groaned. "I don't want to talk."

"I think you do."

She dropped her chin and glared at him.

"Just hear me out..." Scott nodded slowly. "You wanna talk to him, you want to tell him that what he did sucks and you're mad at him. You want him to _know_ that. Because you don't want him to keep doing it. But it's hard to say those things. It's hard to be vulnerable." He took a step closer and reached for her, his fingers gently folding around her forearms. "But I know you. I know that you don't want to give up on him. You're just scared that if it doesn't work out this time, then maybe it never will. And you deserve better than that."

A ball of emotion welled up in her throat and made it nearly impossible for her to swallow, let alone speak. It took a few swallows and even then, her voice was a croak as she wondered, "Is that dumb?"

"No." He shook his head. "Malia... You've been dealing with all of this stuff on your own for six years. It's okay to feel like that's not fair."

She sniffled. "Not totally alone."

He half-smiled and tugged on her arms, drawing her forward and into a hug.

Malia hooked her chin over his shoulder and closed her eyes. "I don't know what to do. I don't know where to start or what to say."

"Maybe that _is_ the start. Maybe you just tell him that and see what happens." His hands rubbed circles along her back soothingly. "But, if it doesn't change... If he starts drinking again or he disappears, then... Tell me. Okay? I'm still going to be here and... I don't mind staying on the couch if you need somewhere to stay."

"I kind of like it when we share."

His hands stuttered against her back. Maybe she was imagining it, but his voice sounded deeper when he said, "Me, too."

They stayed like that a long moment, enough that Malia started to feel drowsy. She blamed it on a lack of sleep coupled with their run, but if she was honest, it just felt nice. He was warm and stable and he smelled really good. Like the forest and salt and _Scott_.

And then his phone started buzzing.

Malia leaned back, cleared her throat, and rubbed her hands over her face.

Digging his phone out, Scott checked the caller. "It's my mom. She's probably wondering where I am. I'm not usually up this early on a Saturday."

Malia snorted. "I still want this to be a regular thing."

He nodded. "Uh, I should get this, but... You'll be at Danny's tonight, right?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Maybe. We'll see. Stiles will probably want to go, since Lydia will be there."

"It might be nice to let loose. You should come." She smiled then. "We can practice our dancing some more."

Scott grinned. "Okay." He flipped his phone open then and raised it to his ear. "Mom, hey. I'm just leaving Malia's, I'll be home soon." He walked down the stairs and grabbed up his bike by the handlebar. With a wave to Malia, he climbed on and started riding, one-handed, juggling the phone against his shoulder. "Pick up milk. Got it."

Malia watched him go for a moment before turning and calling after Shiloh.

Shiloh barked back at her, spun around in a circle, and then started sniffing at the grass again.

Leaving the porch, Malia walked over to her, trying to see what it was Shiloh was getting excited about. But all she could find were purple flowers blooming in the otherwise weed-ridden flower beds. Evelyn had kept them immaculate once upon a time. Malia was a little surprised any flowers even grew around her house anymore. For the most part, the vegetables and herbs her mom had once kept in lush quantities had long stopped growing once they weren't being tended to. While Shiloh seemed to find them particularly interesting, Malia couldn't see why. It was a rare splash of color in a mostly green and brown area, but she wasn't entirely sure dogs could see purple. She'd have to Google it later.

"Come on, girl. I think we've got some leftover sausages you can eat."

Perking up, Shiloh went completely still and then hurried toward the porch, only slightly hindered by her leg. She made her way inside, barking excitedly. With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Malia followed after her.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

It was just after six when Allison texted to say that she was picking up Lydia and would be heading Malia's way soon. Malia had officially spent most of her Saturday making sure the homework her teachers had assigned via email was finished. She made her way out to the living room to let her dad know her friends would be there relatively soon, only to find him sitting at the kitchen table, his reading glasses on and a book in front of him.

"Hey."

Looking up, he squinted, and then pushed his glasses on top of his head. "Hey. Getting hungry yet? I thought we could order pizza."

"Um, maybe. Allison and Lydia are on their way over. We might just get something to eat while we're out."

He nodded. "That's fine. I, uh, I'll be taking off in an hour or so anyway. I've got a meeting."

Malia's brows hiked. "Really?"

"For AA." He held his book up for her to see. "Melissa brought me to one the other night. I got a phone list and there's another one on tonight. They're recommending thirty meetings in thirty days. I might try for a bit more than that, just to start off."

Malia walked a little closer, curious now. "Does it help?"

"It does, yeah." He half-smiled. "I'm not cured, but I think I'm on the right path."

"Is 'cured' really a thing?"

He stared at her a long moment. "I don't think so, not with this. I can get better. If I keep on the right track and I stay sober. I have to work at it. Make sure I'm doing the right things and connecting with the right people." He paused. "I'm not gonna lie to you, honey. It's gonna be a long road and I might take some wrong turns, but... I'm trying. I'm doing this for you and for me and because I should've done it a long time ago."

Malia hummed. A beat passed before she walked a little closer. "So... Twelve steps, right?"

He nodded.

She took a seat at the table and clasped her hands together, her fingers knotted together tightly. "What are they?"

He smothered a smile, just barely, and then thumbed through his book. "I don't have them memorized just yet, so I'll read 'em to you."

"Okay."

Putting his reading glasses back on, he cleared his throat. " _Step One:_ _We admitted we were powerless over alcohol— that our lives had become unmanageable..._ "

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"No... No... Ew, definitely not."

Malia exchanged a look with Allison, both of them rolling their eyes as Lydia went through Malia's closet with a _critical_ eye. Lydia's frustration was more than obvious.

"Hideous... Awful... What color is that? _Vomit_. Absolutely not... Oh. This could— No, never mind."

"Lydia..." Allison's voice was patient, which was far better than what Malia was willing to offer. "You know we're _guests_ , right? We can't just show up at Malia's house, raid her closet, and insult everything she owns."

"I didn't insult _everything_." Lydia twirled around, her skirt swishing around her legs. "Her dog is cute."

Shiloh looked up from where she had been chewing on a ball; her tongue lolled cheerfully from her mouth.

"She has her moments." Malia leaned back in her desk chair. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Let's see... Mmm, how about something I'm actually willing to be seen in public with."

"And if you can't find that?"

"Then you better hope a store is open, 'cause we're going shopping."

Malia stared at her, and was somehow not even slightly surprised to realize that Lydia was _one hundred percent_ serious. "Fine. I don't want to go shopping, so I'm giving you one-time privileges to put together something halfway decent and I'll wear it." Before Lydia could get excited, she added, "I get one veto."

Lydia smirked. "You won't need it." With that, she turned to the closet once more and tapped a finger against her chin. "All right, let's see..."

Malia turned to look at Allison.

With a wink and a thumbs-up, Allison nodded her approval and mouthed, " _Smart_."

Malia shrugged.

It was one night and one outfit. Besides, wasn't Danny always telling her to get out of her fashion bubble and try new things? Tonight, she would. If it worked, then fine, and if it blew up in her face, she could use it as an example to keep Danny off her back. It was a win/win.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Danny's party wasn't starting until eleven, so after getting dressed up, the girls decided dinner was in order. They ended up at a pizza joint, a large pie on the table. Malia sat on one side of the booth, her legs stretched out along the seat, while Allison and Lydia took up the other side.

"I still think you both missed an opportunity by not wearing a skirt." Lydia picked an olive off her pizza and flicked it onto Allison's plate. "You have the legs for it, might as well enjoy the spoils."

"I'm pretty sure my shorts do the same thing, just without the draft." Malia took a long sip of her Coke and then shrugged. "Anyway, I don't have any skirts." She did, actually. They were just tucked deep inside her dresser and she hadn't let Lydia find them.

Lydia pulled a face. "I noticed."

"On the bright side, that makes _your_ skirt look even more unique." Allison looked between them. "Right?"

"Iconic," Malia agreed, only half-joking.

Seemingly soothed by their praise, Lydia hummed. "Onto more interesting things. Will Cole be at the party tonight?"

"Probably. He's friends with Danny." She took a bite of her pizza and pushed it all to one side, so she was chip-munking it as she spoke. "We're working on being friends."

"No more benefits?" Allison looked curious. "When'd that happen?"

"Last night. It's not a big deal."

"Uh, yes, it is." Lydia's brows hiked. "Cole James was your ticket to a higher rung on the ladder. Now, you're rung-less, _again_."

"I was never much of a climber to begin with. I leave that junk to you." Malia purposely chewed with her mouth open just to see the perturbed look on Lydia's face. "If he's such a prize, why don't _you_ date him?"

Lydia sat a little taller and raised her chin in what Malia thought was a defensive motion. "I have Jackson. I'm _perfectly_ happy with him."

Malia leaned her back against the wall. "If you say so."

Lydia's mouth pursed. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Guys..." Allison worried her lip between her teeth. "Can we just eat and talk?"

"We _are_ talking. I want to know what she meant." Lydia's gaze bore a hole into the side of Malia's face. "Just because Jackson doesn't like you—"

"We don't like each other. There's a difference." Malia glanced at her. "And I don't like him because he's a jerk."

"He's not." Lydia paused. "Not always. And you don't even know him. Not really."

"I know enough to know I don't _want_ to know him." Malia shook her head. "All he's ever been to me and my friends is an asshole. Maybe you and Danny see something there that I don't. But what I have seen is that he doesn't care about anyone but himself." Sitting up then, she brought her legs around, dropping her feet to the floor. "I get that he's popular and that it's a big deal to you. But, there's a difference in being liked and being feared."

Lydia stared at her. "Fear _is_ power. If you use it right."

Malia took a deep breath and sighed. "You know what, you're right. You and Jackson are perfect for each other. Forget I even said anything."

With a flip of her hair, Lydia said, "We are. And I will."

Silence filled the table then. Until eventually, Allison cleared her throat. "So... how's the pizza?"

Malia served herself out a fourth piece and popped a slice of pepperoni in her mouth. "Great. How's yours?"

* * *

 **…**

* * *

By the time they reached the party, Lydia wasn't talking to Malia. In fact, she was in a mood, snapping at Allison and glaring at Malia whenever she so much as breathed too loudly. As soon as the door opened, she took off, marching through the crowd and leaving Allison and Malia in the dust.

"Did you forget that she's sleeping over later?" Allison wondered.

Malia winced. "I might've been a little harsh..."

Allison's brow furrowed. "A little?"

"Okay. More than a little. But I'm not the only one that thinks she can do better than Jackson, right?"

"Of course not. But there's probably a nicer way of saying it." Allison shook her head and linked her arm with Malia's. "She's been really tense about what happened at the school. I just don't want to add relationship drama on top of that."

Malia nodded. "You're right. I'll apologize... Later. After she's had some time to cool off."

"When she's tipsy and will probably forget it, you mean?" Allison stared at her knowingly. "Come on, I'm thirsty and I want to dance."

"Lead the way."

As Allison started walking, Malia let herself be towed along. She spotted Danny across the living room, but he was distracted, laughing at something, his head thrown back. She perked up and tugged at Allison's arm. "Quick detour."

Allison craned her neck, trying to see what Malia was looking at.

Malia pulled her along, weaving through a rowdy crowd of teenagers with red solo cups, until she reached who she was looking for. "It's Adam, right?"

He whirled around to face her; tall and handsome with brown hair and green eyes. His eyes lit up almost instantly. "Malia! I've seen pictures!" He reached out for a hug and, while Malia was a little caught off-guard, she reached back. He smelled good, not quite as good as Danny's Armani cologne, but good all the same.

When they pulled apart, she turned a smile on Danny and then grinned at Adam. "So, I hear you make great trail mix."

Adam laughed and turned a twinkly-eyed look on Danny. "So I'm told."

Danny rolled his eyes, but he was smiling wide enough that his dimples were on high. "I'm glad you guys came. Have you grabbed a drink yet?"

"We were on our way there when Malia spotted you." Allison waved. "I'm Allison, by the way."

Adam waved back. "Adam. It's nice to meet you."

"You, too."

"Where was the drinks table?" Malia wondered.

Danny pointed across the crowd. "That direction. The louder it gets, the closer you are."

"Thanks!" Malia started walking backward, bringing Allison along with her. "I'll find you guys later."

Danny raised his drink in cheers. "Have fun. Mingle."

She rolled her eyes in reply and then turned on her heel. "Let's find that drink."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Remind me again why we aren't at a house party right now?" Stiles was sprawled out on the hard ground, his head resting against a boulder Scott was sitting on, one hand wrapped around a bottle of Jack Daniel's. "Where they had _free_ alcohol, by the way. I had to steal this from my dad's liquor cabinet and hope he doesn't find out."

Scott sighed. "We _are_ going… Soon. I just... I wanted to get my courage up."

"Ah, see, that's what the bottle's for. It's supposed to make all those pesky insecurities just melt away."

"It's a nice plan, but I'm still not sure alcohol's even going to have an effect on me. I've been thinking about it, and if my metabolism has increased, then it'll break down the alcohol before it has a chance to work."

Hands stacked on his chest, Stiles said, "Can't be sure until you try." He passed the bottle over to him. "Anyway, what do you need courage for? Just because you freaked out at the last party you went to, stranding Allison on the dance floor before taking off with Malia, only to start shifting in your bathtub before you jumped out your window, ran into the woods, and were attacked by hunters—"

"All pretty good reasons to be worried," Scott muttered. "But, I didn't mean that… I've been thinking about what you said. About me and Malia."

Stiles' eyes shot open and he pushed up onto his elbows. "What? Seriously? Are— Are you thinking about telling her how you feel?" Before Scott could even answer, Stiles started hooting excitedly. "Y-Yes! Okay, okay, how're you gonna do it? What are you gonna say? Wait, no, don't tell me. I'll record it on my phone. You know, for posterity's sake. That way, ten years from now, when I'm making your best man's speech, I can play the video. It's perfect."

"What?" Scott shook his head. "You are definitely not recording it."

Stiles snorted. "Have you got a better idea?"

"Yeah. I talk to Malia privately. _Alone_. And we figure this stuff out. Put it to rest, you know?"

Stiles stared at him. "I'm… Wait. I'm confused. You're going to tell her how you feel, right?"

"Yeah. Probably. At least, I think so."

"And you think, what, it's going to go… _badly?_ "

"It could! Maybe…"

"What part of 'think about your relationship with Malia' made you think, 'she's totally going to reject me?'" Stiles pulled a face and shook his head. "What, in six years of friendship, makes you think that she isn't totally in—" He cut himself off and then rubbed the heel of one of his hands against his eye. "I'm getting a little tired of this back and forth, okay? It's not fun for me. I'm the one stuck in the middle here. I've got two best friends being _idiots_ and I have to play referee. You think that's fun?" He grabbed for the whiskey bottle and took a swig. Swallowing and coughing, he let out a groan and swiped at his mouth. "It's not fun," he croaked. "It's exhausting. And frustrating. I'm the one who has to watch you two with your 'training.'" He made finger quotes. "All sweaty and flirty, rolling around in the grass, inches away from making out. How am I supposed to Miyagi anyone if you two are always…" He pressed his hands flat against each other and then wiggled them around.

Scott rolled his eyes. "We don't do that. And Malia takes this training stuff seriously… I'm holding her back."

Stiles let out a long and dramatic sigh. "No, you're not. Seriously, you need to stop beating yourself up for this stuff. Malia is—"

"Amazing," Scott interrupted. "She's got this shifter stuff half-figured out already. And I'm useless. All she wants is for me to help and I can't even do that."

"Dude, I know we're seeing this stuff from two different vantage points, but you need a bird's eye view from where I'm sitting."

"In your lawn chair?" Scott joked.

"You help her in different ways, all right? So, maybe you're not ready for hand to hand combat, whatever. That doesn't mean you aren't there for her in other ways."

Scott's shoulders slumped. "The problem is that I want to be there in _every_ way."

"Okay, so… _tell_ her that."

Scott shook his head and ground his teeth together. "You don't get it."

"Then help me, Scott!" He threw a hand up. "Because I'm not seeing a reason for the hold up here. Maybe it's the whiskey talking, but it sounds like you're just making excuses."

Scott's brow furrowed. "Maybe I am."

"Why?"

Scott stared at the ground, his hands clasped together. "This werewolf stuff, it sucks. But at the same time, I'm also stronger and healthier than I've ever been. This morning, when we were running, I could finally breathe. It felt _amazing_. But then it hit me on my way home, when I was riding my bike and I didn't have to pull over every twenty minutes to use my inhaler, that if Malia didn't like me before and she doesn't like me now, then that's it. I'm never going to be any better than I am right now."

Stiles turned over onto his side and stared up at him. "Yeah, well, see, the problem with that thinking is that it's bullshit."

Scott sighed. "You don't understand."

"No, I do. I get it. Your problem is that you think anything's really changed."

"A _lot_ has changed. Everything about me has—"

"No." Stiles laughed lightly. "Dude, you barely changed at all. So, you get a little hairy sometimes and you need extra strength nail clippers, but Scott… You're still the same guy you were two month ago. This wolf stuff is just a speedbump, man. You're right, you're faster and stronger, but that doesn't change _you_. And Malia knows that. She doesn't give a shit how fast you can run or if you can pick a truck up over your head. Malia cares about who you are not what you can do. And I don't care what cycle the moon's in, you're still _Scott_."

Scott stared at him a long beat and then half-smiled. "All right, I think you're done drinking. You're getting sentimental on me."

"What? No way, Jack is _mine!_ "

Just as Stiles reached for the whiskey bottle again, however, a hand reached out and snatched it from him.

Scott looked up to see two men standing in front of them. The one at the forefront was tall, African American, and wearing a backwards hat. He smirked down at them. "Well, look at the two little bitches getting their drink on."

Scott felt a wave of anger wash through him. "Give it back." It didn't matter that he was about to take it away from Stiles or that they were getting ready to leave. What mattered was that these two guys were hassling them.

"What's that, little man?"

The second guy was shorter and stockier, with pale skin and a weasely face. "I think he wants a drink," he mocked.

Scott's brow fell heavy over his eyes and a red tinge colored the outer edges of his vision. His voice grew stiff and warning. "I want the bottle."

Stiles had pulled himself up and was standing nearby, awkwardly readjusting his jacket, his eyes cutting nervously from Scott to the two men. "Scott, maybe we should just go."

Scott stared the men down, specifically the one holding the whiskey bottle. "No. Liquid courage, remember? It's ours."

The men snickered to each other.

Scott stood from the rock, feeling the muscles along his arms and legs stretch. A coil of anticipation tightened in his stomach. He stalked toward the men until he was only a couple feet away. "Give me the bottle." His voice dropped, rippling with a wolfish growl. He felt his claws grow and flexed his fingers; the sudden urge to sink them into flesh, to tear and pull, made his mouth water. That red haze started to ebb and flow around his eyes and he knew, he could feel that they weren't their usual brown. "Give me the bottle of Jack." Scott watched fear climb across the man's face, his mouth falling slack and the cruel tilt of humor he'd embraced while he picked on a couple of teenagers was long gone.

Behind him, Stiles' voice was heavy with worry. "Scott?"

The man held the bottle of whiskey out and Scott tore it from his outstretched hand. Abruptly, he whipped his arm out and let the bottle loose to shatter against a far tree. The men stumbled back, reeking of fear and sweat.

"O-kay, time to go." Stiles grabbed at Scott's shoulder and pulled at him. "Come on. We have somewhere to be, remember?" He tugged, but Scott didn't move. With a sigh, he dropped his voice lower, glancing briefly at their company before focusing on Scott once more. "Think about Malia, okay? At a party right now, waiting on us to get there. Just think about her, Scott."

Scott's gaze fell an inch. He could still feel a well of anger inside him, ready and willing to be explored. But he let his shoulders loosen up, let Stiles pull and tug and draw him away. Until finally, his gaze split from the men. Scott turned his back on them and walked with Stiles back to where the jeep was parked.

"What the hell was that?" Stiles wondered, hurrying to keep pace with him. "The full moon isn't for another couple days."

"I don't know." Scott tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket, squeezing his fingers into a fist and grinding his teeth.

"Is it… under control now, or…?" Stiles stared at him searchingly. "What do you wanna do?"

Taking a deep breath, Scott said, "Danny's party."

Stiles brow hiked. "Really? You think that's the best idea?"

"You know what's better than _thinking_ about Malia?" He came to a stop next to the jeep. "Seeing her."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Lydia was definitely avoiding them. Malia had spotted her a few times, but Lydia always ended up walking in the opposite direction of her. Jackson was around, too; hanging out with a few people from the lacrosse team. It was the first time Malia had seen him since the school attack. Of them all, he looked the most unbothered. But then, maybe he was just getting better at hiding his trauma. She still remembered how he looked after the video store attack. Bags under his eyes, gaunt cheeks and blood-shot eyes. And the intensity about him, like a physical energy buzzing around his person, a sharp static that screamed 'wrong.'

"Is it just me, or is Lydia Martin not your biggest fan right now?"

Malia looked up, surprised to find Cole standing next to her. "Yeah. I think I hurt her feelings."

"Something about Jackson?"

Her brow furrowed. "How'd you know?"

"You're staring at him. And I'm pretty sure you hate him, so..." Cole shrugged. "Not hard to put it together."

Malia frowned. "I just don't get it, what she sees in him. He's a dick."

"Maybe he's got a softer side we don't see."

"Yeah, but, even if that's true, is that supposed to make everything he does okay?" Malia shook her head. "The way he treats people is crap."

"I guess it's a good thing _you're_ not dating him." He bumped her shoulder. "Lydia's smart. She knows what she's doing."

"Yeah. Probably." Turning on her heel, putting the issue behind her, she focused on him. "Having fun?"

Cole shrugged. "More fun now." He looked around quickly. "Scott here?"

"I don't think so, but he said he'd probably come. Why?"

"Just wondering. I saw Allison over by the snack table, flirting with a very pretty brunette."

Malia grinned. "I guess she's got a type."

Cole held a hand out. "You wanna dance?"

"Sure." Malia took his hand and let him lead her over to where a crowd had collected near the speakers. "Just don't expect it to end the same way it did last time. I don't make out with friends."

Cole chuckled under his breath and winked at her. "Your loss."

Shaking her head, she smiled as he twirled her around and brought her back in, an arm wrapping low around her waist. "This isn't even a slow song."

He leaned in and lowered his mouth so it was nearly brushing her ear. "That's what makes it fun."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"You know what, I'm kind of rethinking this..." Stiles' hands wrung worriedly as he looked from Scott back to his jeep while they walked up the driveway to Danny's house. "Maybe the party's a bad idea. There's a lot of people and you're not exactly feeling up to it. Yeah, we should just go." He nodded quickly. "Come on, we'll head back to my place, get a pizza or something, just hang out."

"I just need to see her. I'll feel better if I do." Scott was almost to the door, his hands folded into fists at his sides.

Scott had hoped that even just leaving the forest, getting away from those guys, would help him calm down. But he didn't feel good, not like his normal self. Instead, he felt _off_. Like his skin was too tight and his limbs were too heavy. There was a pressure building up inside him, almost like when an asthma attack would start making him panic. But there was a fission of hope there, too. If he could just see Malia and hear her voice, then maybe it would stop. Maybe it would all just bleed away.

Danny's house was packed. People filled every available inch of space, huddled together in groups, laughing and talking. They were a blur to Scott. A collection of colors and bodies, but none of them particularly recognizable. The smell of beer and sweat, cologne and hairspray, all seemed to compound, and he had to breathe through his nose when it started to make his head ache.

"Pick up, pick up... Come on..." Stiles hung up and then jabbed his fingers against his phone again. "Hey, what's Allison's number? She'll know where Malia is."

Scott ignored him. Instead, he cut through the crowd, bumping into people along the way, jarring them hard enough that a few shouted, 'hey!' Their drinks sloshed, spilling onto the floor. He heard a muttered 'asshole' from behind him, but didn't bother to look. A flash of red caught his eye then and his vision focused for a moment— _Lydia_. She didn't see him. She stood, arms crossed over her chest, glaring up at Jackson, who was rolling his eyes. There was no Malia there. He turned his attention forward once more, moving and searching. There was so much noise— music, heartbeats, breathing. A collection of red cups tipped over and crashed to the floor; it shouldn't have sounded so loud, but it did. Scott winced. He reached up to cover his ears, despite knowing it was basically useless, and whirled around. He needed a moment. A quiet room to just help him get his bearings. But as he turned, he spotted her.

 _Malia_.

Swaying along to the music, her hips rocking, and her hands folded together with—

Cole.

Scott's stomach dropped out and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

He stood, head cocked, watching them move together. The music became little more than thumping background noise. Malia tossed her head back to laugh, her hair spilling around her shoulders, bare except for two thin straps from her top. Cole tugged on one of her hands, making her spin, and hugged an arm around her waist as she leaned her back against his chest. There was something light and calm about her. A softness Scott didn't get to see as often lately. It made his heart squeeze and pull.

"Scott. Scotty? You okay?" Stiles stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder. "You wanna get out of here? Fresh air could probably help right now."

But Scott wouldn't move. Or blink. Or take his eyes off her.

Something dark and angry welled up inside him and he didn't like it one bit. It was cold and sharp and demanding. Not for the first time, Scott felt the wolf growing inside him, rattling the cage that was his human-self. It demanded out, and it wanted blood. Scott folded his hands into fists, squeezing them so tight that his bones _hurt_. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't hurt them. And he hated that there was even a moment of weakness where that seemed like a good idea. Ready to turn around, to leave, to let Stiles help him, he only stopped when Malia looked up and directly at him.

Her brow furrowed and then she was pushing off Cole, muttering something back to him, and crossing the room. With a few long strides, she was right in front of him. "Hey..." She stared at Scott searchingly. "Are you okay?"

He wanted to lie, to tell her he was fine, just not feeling so great and ready to head home. But his tongue sat heavy and useless in his mouth.

"You're giving off a bit of a serial killer vibe right now with the staring and not talking." Malia reached for him, her hands folding around his forearms. "Did something happen?"

Scott stared down at her, his breathing coming a little quicker now. Words. He needed to say something, _anything_. But all he could do was stare at her.

"How long's he been like this?" she wondered, looking past his shoulder to Stiles.

"Forty minutes, maybe. He started getting weird when we were in the woods. We were hanging out and these guys found us, started giving us a hard time. Scott got in their face. I seriously thought he was going to fight them, but… He didn't. So, we came here. He said he needed to see you."

"Okay." She turned back to Scott. "Can you hear me?"

His gaze fell to her mouth and then skittered back to meet her eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes." She took a quick look around. "Allison is around here somewhere. Stiles, can you go find her?"

"Yeah, sure."

Scott could feel the absence of Stiles at his back and focused his sole attention on Malia.

"What do you need?" Malia's thumbs rubbed against his arm. "You wanna go outside? Go somewhere quiet? Just tell me what you need and I'll do it."

Scott thought of the woods. Of when Malia was freaking out and the only thing that helped ground her was when he'd hugged her. And so, without giving it much thought, he stepped forward and he dropped his chin down to Malia's shoulder. He turned his face so it was pressed up against the crook of her neck and he just _breathed_. Wildflowers encompassed every inhale. He closed his eyes and let it take him away. From the party and the pressure. Until there was just him and her and the sound of her heartbeat in his ears.

Malia slowly wrapped her arms around him. Her hands made sweeping circles across his back.

Scott's hands slowly found Malia's hips, the rough denim against his palms was a contrast to the soft fabric of her top brushing against his knuckles. The noise of the party became a buzz in the background. He reached an arm around her, banding it across her back and pressed his front flat against hers. Her breath stuttered and then her hand was warm against the nape of his neck. Slowly, gently, her fingers combed through his hair.

He felt calm. His lungs opened and his body softened. The pressure in his chest and hanging from his limbs started to ebb. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but sound leaked into his ears again. Music first. Then shuffling feet and voices. Until, soon it was a rush of noise, almost too loud for him to handle. He winced and lifted his head, his eyes squinted.

"Hey..." Malia caught his chin. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Just loud."

"Okay. You wanna go outside?"

"No. It's fine. It'll pass."

She stared at him searchingly, her expression still twisted up with worry. "I'm gonna find Danny, let him know I'm leaving. We'll go somewhere else and just… figure out what's going on, okay? "

Scott nodded and her fingers fell from his chin, landing on his chest, in the open collar of his shirt. They dangled there, the tips pressed against his bare skin.

"Stay here. I'll be right back."

"Okay."

She paused and then half-smiled. "You're gonna have to let me go."

His eyes widened. "Oh. Uh... Sorry." Letting his hands fall to his sides, he took a step back. Her fingers left his chest, but he could still feel a warm imprint of where they'd touched.

Backing up, she promised, "I'll be quick."

Scott hummed. He watched her turn on her heel and cut across the room, maneuvering around people in search of Danny.

"Scott, hey."

Scott looked to his left to find Cole standing nearby. "Uh… hi."

"Are you doing okay? You looked a little out of it before."

As much as a part of Scott really truly wanted to dislike Cole, moments like this reminded him that Cole seemed like a genuinely nice person. He even seemed sincerely concerned for him. "Yeah, just not feeling well. Sorry I, uh, interrupted your..." He waved vaguely, meaning the dance that Malia and Cole were engaged in when he had his meltdown.

"Oh, no worries. We were just having fun." Cole paused then. "Malia's great. I really like her."

Scott went still. "Yeah."

"Look, Scott, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot or something. Friendship might be a little much right now, but maybe we could work on that. Malia and I are still figuring this stuff out, but—"

A sudden crash caught their attention and Scott turned to see Greenberg standing over a pile of beer cans, looking drunk and disappointed, his hands on his hips. A few people nearby started snickering, while Jackson started calling out insults. A bored and disinterested Lydia stood next to him, arms crossed and eyes rolling. Between the noise and Cole, Scott was starting to feel overwhelmed again. His skin prickled, and his heartrate accelerated.

Glancing at Cole, he said, "I have to go."

While he should have turned around and walked outside, Scott found himself moving forward, toward the closest door he could see. It turned out to be a bathroom and he quickly shut himself inside. His hands found the counter and gripped the edge tightly as he tried to focus on his breathing. He thought of Malia; of dancing with her in the woods and running with her this morning. But right behind those memories was her dancing and laughing with Cole. Cole's voice saying they were 'figuring stuff out.' He shook his head and reached for the taps, turning the water on cold and filling his palms with it. He just needed to calm down and breathe and get out of this house. The full moon wasn't for another two days, but already it was feeling just like Lydia's party a month ago.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After saying goodbye to Danny and Adam, agreeing to a vague meet-up in the near future so she could get to know Adam better, Malia went in search of Allison and Stiles. She found them by the snack table, completely unworried, trying to throw pretzels into each other's mouths. Malia rolled her eyes. " _Stiles_ _!"_

Jumping nervously, he whipped around to face her. "H-Hey! Where, uh, where's Scott?"

She frowned. "Where I left him. You were supposed to find Allison and then come back."

"Oh. Yeah. Well..." He chewed his lip. "I mean, you seemed to have it under control with the whole..." He gestured his hands around. "Intimate hugging thing."

Allison snorted.

Malia's gaze narrowed.

Stiles winced. "I just mean... It looked cozy and _calm_ and not like an immediate threat, so... Uh..." He held up a pretzel. "Hungry?"

Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. "The noise is getting to him." She glanced at Allison. "He's got a migraine."

"Oh. Right. Sure." Stiles dusted his hands off. "Time to go, I guess."

Allison waved at them. "I have some Ibuprofen, if that helps."

"Thanks, but I think he's just gonna head home and crash," Malia said. "It's been a long day."

"Okay." Allison looked from her to Stiles. "Does that mean the party is over for everyone then or…?"

That was the problem, wasn't it? As soon as Malia left Scott, she realized that she was supposed to be hosting a sleepover at her place. And while she was pretty sure her dad was okay with the girls staying over, he might not be quite as welcome to Scott and Stiles staying over, too. Plus, if Scott really was getting edgy, he probably shouldn't be around anybody who didn't know his furry secret and could get hurt. But if he needed her, then she should go with him, right?

With a sigh, Malia admitted, "I don't know. What I do know is that he's waiting in the living room, so…" She turned to Stiles. "Grab the jeep and I'll meet you outside?"

Stiles saluted her. But as soon as Malia turned on her heel to leave, she looked back to see Stiles grab up a handful of pretzels and then wave to Allison to get in position.

With a laugh, Allison backed up and then gave him a thumbs-up to start throwing. On the one hand, Malia was glad they were working on their friendship. On the other, she kind of needed Stiles' help here.

Sighing, Malia kept walking. She'd deal with Stiles later. Just as soon as...

Malia came to an abrupt stop. Scott was nowhere to be seen.

Cole wandered over, a cup in hand. "He's in the guest bathroom."

"Oh. Okay." Malia paused. "You guys talked?"

"A little." Cole shrugged. "He looked a little freaked out. I know we're not friends, but I figured I was better than nothing. And since you and I are trying to be friends, we'll probably have to get used to each other."

Malia nodded slowly. "Which way's the guest bathroom?"

Cole pointed. "Not far."

"Okay. Thanks. Um..." She started backing away. "Tonight was fun. I'm glad we hung out."

"Me, too."

Turning around, she cut toward the closed bathroom door, just down the hall a little. She reached for the handle but then paused and knocked. "Scott... Are you in there?" When no answer came, she tapped again. "Scott?"

Slowly, the door cracked open.

Relieved, Malia pushed it open wider and slipped inside, closing it behind her. The sound from outside was muffled; distant music playing mixed with the subdued sound of voices and laughter. It was like they were isolated from it all; near but not a part of. "Hey... Are you doing okay?"

Scott stood against the far wall, his arms crossed and his foot tapping rapidly. "I'm freaking out."

"I can see that." She stared at him searchingly. "Any particular reason?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it's the moon? But that's not for two more days. I... I shouldn't be like this..."

"Okay, well, so we get out of here. Stiles is gonna get the jeep. He can bring you home. Or to his place. Whichever. Just somewhere there's not a lot of people."

"Like Cole?"

Malia frowned. "I guess…"

He opened his eyes and focused them on the ceiling. "You looked happy when you were dancing."

Malia stared at him, confused.

Scott pushed off the wall and walked toward her. But his gait was different, his arms uncrossed, hands hanging loose at his sides.

There was something about the way he was moving, the expression on his face, that almost looked predatory. In fact, it reminded her of the woods, back when they had Derek arrested and Scott had shifted unexpectedly and tracked her down. The difference now was that Malia wasn't scared, per se. Then, she'd been entirely human and had almost no idea what Scott would or wouldn't do. She operated mostly on blind faith. Now… She wasn't human. Not totally. And if Scott had done anything, he'd proven that even when the wolf was in control, some part of him wouldn't let it hurt her.

"Were you?"

Malia swallowed tightly. Her mind felt fuzzy, her thoughts jumbled. It was hard to stay focused when he was walking toward her with so much intention in every step. What that intention was, she wasn't sure, but it made every muscle in her body tighten up and pay attention. "Was I what?"

He stopped just short of her. "Happy?"

"I..." She searched his face. "I was having fun, yeah."

"With Cole."

Her brow furrowed. "Did something happen? Did he say something?"

"Yeah, something." He stepped closer, his chest pressed to hers, firm and warm. "That you guys were working things out."

It took a second for his words to make sense. Part of that was because he was standing so closely that every breath she took was filled with him. It was both unnerving and _not_ to have him taking up her space. This wasn't like their hug before, where it was mutual. This felt purposeful in a different way. "I... Yeah. We are. We're..." Her breath caught when Scott stepped forward. With no space between them, she was forced to lean away, until her back hit the door while her legs were stretched out in front of her. He reached past her, palms resting flat against the door, his arms caging her in, and his hips snug against her own. "F-Friends."

"Friends?" He cocked his head, the tip of his nose brushing hers and his breath hot against her mouth. "Like us?"

"No." Her breathing stuttered. "Not really."

"Right." His nose brushed against her lips and her chin and then lower. He ducked under, his nose buried against her neck and making a slow trek back up, breathing her in. He paused with his mouth against her cheek. "With benefits."

Malia was trying to think, but she wasn't having an easy time of it. Her skin felt too warm and tight, her heart skittered unevenly, and those unruly butterflies were kicking up a storm in her stomach. "Yeah... _No_... I mean..."

Scott raised his eyes to meets hers, now a distinct yellow. "Which one is it?"

"Scott, you're shifting." Right. Yes. Focus on that. And not on the press of his body against her own, the drag of his lips down her cheek, the way he was looking at her from beneath long, black eyelashes. "You need to calm down, okay?" And so did she.

"I'm calm." He raised a hand up, his thumb pressing flat against her chin while his fingers curled underneath. "You're not. I can hear your heart."

Malia swallowed tightly.

"Are you scared of me?" His voice was pitched low and deep. It made her stomach clench and her thighs shake.

"No," she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

Scott smiled, but it wasn't the sweet and goofy smile she was used to. This was something else. A slow, liquid heat disguised in the curl of his lips. "Then what are you?"

 _Turned on_ , she thought. And seriously questioning her sanity.

Obviously, Scott was being affected by something. Derek hadn't mentioned anything about feeling the affects of the moon early, but this had to be that, right? He wasn't being his usual self.

"Scott, we need to..." _Go_. Find Stiles. Get out of this very small, very private bathroom. Take a cold shower. _Something_.

"We need," he said, his voice so utterly agreeable that she felt it in her bones. She felt his hand on the small of her back, tucked under her shirt, a warm brand against bare skin. His hand climbed her back— she felt the subtle scrape of his claws against her skin and her whole body _shook_. Not with fear or worry or concern, but with anticipation. Her lips parted and a quiet sigh left her. His gaze fell to her mouth and then raised to meets her again. When he leaned in, her eyes drifted shut. But just as she swore she felt the faintest brush of his mouth against hers— _Bang!_

A knock hammered at the door behind her. "Hey! Is anyone in there! I need to pee, man!"

Malia's eyes shot open. Her hands, which she only now realized had been gripping the sleeves of Scott's shirt, took hold of his shoulders and pushed him back. "Y-yeah. Hold on." She stood upright, smoothed her shirt down, and glanced at Scott before turning and facing the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and her expression screamed 'guilty.' "We should go. Stiles is waiting."

With that, she yanked the bathroom door open and stepped out, hardly giving whoever was waiting a passing glance. She could tell Scott was following her, at a distance but definitely there.

Stiles was walking toward them, flipping his keys around a finger. "Hey. Ready to go?"

"Yes. He is." Malia waved vaguely in Scott's direction. "Something is up. His eyes were glowing earlier. Keep an eye on him, okay?"

"So... does that mean we're on our own or...?"

"Yeah. You can handle it." She nodded quickly. "I, uh, I'm gonna find Allison."

Stiles frowned. "Are you okay? You're acting weird and nervous. That's usually my shtick."

"Fine. Totally fine." She hugged her arms around herself, feeling distinctly cold all of a sudden. "Text me later, let me know how he's doing."

"Yeah, okay." He stared at her searchingly. "Have a good night?"

"Mm-hmm." She turned to leave then. But as Malia was passing Scott, he reached out, his hand folding around her elbow and drawing her to a stop.

Malia knew she could shrug him off and keep going, but she didn't. She stared forward, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet and subdued, nothing like it was before.

Hesitantly, she turned to look at him. His eyes were back to their familiar brown and his expression was sad and apologetic.

Malia's shoulders slumped a little. "It's okay. Really. We'll talk about it tomorrow, okay? Just... go home. Get some rest."

Scott stared at her, searching her face. "We're okay?"

"Yeah. Of course we are." She smiled. "Always."

Scott nodded and slowly let his hand fall away. "Okay." After a beat, he turned and left.

She lingered a few seconds longer, but eventually started moving again. Her gaze absently bounced around, searching for Allison. But her mind was elsewhere, stuck on an almost kiss that she was about 90 percent sure was motivated by werewolf hormones and nothing else. Just thinking of the guilty look on Scott's face made her stomach twist and her insides cringe. He was probably beating himself up over it while she had been almost desperate for it to happen. What the hell kind of friend did that make her?

"Hey!" Allison's voice called out. "Did Stiles leave or— Uh, are you okay? You look like someone just ran over your dog..." She paused. "Again. And with worse results."

"Yeah. Fine." Malia shook her head. "Are you having fun?"

Allison shrugged. "Not really."

"Would it be totally lame if we just went back to my place?"

"No, not at all. All we need to do is find—"

Lydia suddenly appeared next to them, her arms crossed and her mouth set in a perturbed frown. "This party sucks. Can we go?"

Allison grinned. "You read our minds."

"Perfect." With a flip of her hair, Lydia turned on her heel to face the door. "The sooner we get back to Tate's, the sooner she can explain why she and Scott were holed up in the bathroom and came out looking guilty." Without bothering to wait for a response, she sashayed away.

Malia, uncharacteristically shocked, followed after her.

Amused, Allison bumped Malia's shoulder. "You know, we've got about a thirty-minute ride back to your place and I wouldn't put it past her to start grilling you as soon as we get to my car."

Malia groaned. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _i actually finished this chapter pretty early on, it was just editing it that took forever. and i'm still not entirely sure there isn't a dozen or so mistakes in here, so if you see one, let me know! in any case, i'm once again sorry for the long wait! on the bright side, it's quite long. :D_

 _i actually really liked writing this chapter for a variety of reasons that i hope you enjoyed, too. malia and derek have made up, somewhat. some questions are semi-answered, in part because derek is still figuring out part of that mystery himself. but seeds are planted! plus, they hugged. i feel like they're at a point now where that makes sense. derek was still a little awkward about it, but it needed to happen._

 _plus, some forward motion when it comes to malia and her dad. their journey together is going to be a long one with a lot of ups and downs, but for now, henry is really focused on recovery and hope, and malia is tentatively hopeful. also, i just really loved having scott choke on his food when henry mentioned sleepovers, since he was in malia's bed just the other night. ;)_

 _i'm really curious to see how you guys felt about the scalia scenes. in the beginning, they're sweet and supportive, but by the end of the chapter, scott is being influenced quite a bit by the moon and so it's turning him in one of two directions - violence and seduction. i wanted there to be a difference in how scott is with malia both in and out of the bathroom and i'm hoping it came across the way i wanted it to. so, i guess i'll see. let me know what you think!_

 **things to look forward to next chapter** : _girl talk gets deep, skating, an unexpected panic attack, training, and jealousy of another variety. :)_

 _thanks for reading. please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	24. lunatic 2

**word count** : 11,996  
 **polyvore** : username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices **  
episodes** : 1x08 - lunatic

* * *

 **XXIV.**

Allison was a life saver. She somehow managed to distract Lydia for the entire drive back to Malia's house. Any time it seemed like Lydia was going to jump on the subject of Malia and Scott, Allison was quick to offer something else to talk about, sometimes even just turning the music up on the radio to drown Lydia out. Malia was beyond grateful. Even if, she could admit, there was a small part of her that _wanted_ to talk about what had happened. To get some feedback on the strange and not entirely unwelcome bathroom encounter that she was still turning over in her head, forty minutes later. But, how was she supposed to explain it to them? How could she tell them what happened without adding the part where she was pretty sure Scott's behaviour was based on a not-so-distant full moon?

By the time they reached her house, Malia was frustrated, more with herself than anything. Tonight was supposed to be a good time, a chance to blow off some steam. Instead, she was arriving home feeling even more stressed than before.

Walking ahead, Malia vaguely heard them talking behind her as she crossed the driveway and climbed the porch stairs. She pulled her keys out and unlocked the front door. Her dad's truck was in the driveway, but she couldn't hear him moving around inside. Letting the door swing wide, she kicked her shoes off and took a look around. No beer cans or bottles to be seen. The house seemed kind of spotless. The throw blanket was in a pile on the couch and there was a coffee cup and spoon in the sink, but it was otherwise clean. Figuring Henry had gone to bed, Malia turned to her guests. "You guys want something to drink or...?"

"Some water would be great," Allison agreed, nodding. The last one in, she shrugged her coat off and closed the door, locking it behind her.

Grabbing them each a bottle of water from the fridge, Malia motioned toward her bedroom and started walking. Passing by her dad's bedroom, she tried to stretch her hearing out and caught the sound of his nasally snoring from inside. While a part of her was unwilling to get too attached to the new, sober version of her dad, another part couldn't help but be relieved he'd made it another night.

Shiloh perked up as the girls walked into Malia's bedroom. One of her ears was flipped inside out and she turned sleepy but excited eyes on them, her tail thumping on the floor.

Lydia's eyes lit up, even as she kept her expression neutral. She crouched down next to Shiloh's bed, petting her stomach as Shiloh rolled over for attention.

While Lydia was appropriately distracted, Malia made her way to her dresser, grabbing Allison's arm and drawing her over with her.

Malia focused on digging around for a pair of pajamas, but whispered quietly, "What are the chances she falls for a sudden narcolepsy problem? I can fake falling asleep and totally avoid this whole thing."

Allison's mouth inched up, amused. "Slim to none. I think she was mostly humoring me while I was distracting her in the car." She stared at Malia searchingly. "Would it really be so bad?"

"I wouldn't put torture techniques past her, so yes, it would be bad. She might waterboard me if I don't say what she wants to hear."

"What do you think she wants to hear?"

"I don't know." Malia shrugged and dropped a tank top and a pair of shorts on top of her dresser. "Why does she even care what happened?"

" _Did_ something happen?"

Malia chewed her lip. "Kind of... Sort of... But, not really."

Allison rolled her eyes. "Seriously?"

Malia sighed. "What do you want me to say?"

" _The truth_."

Lydia cleared her throat then, drawing their attention. "The suspicious whispering is a dead giveaway. Don't think I forgot about your and McCall's little tête-à-tête in the bathroom." She waved her hand. "But after. I want to change, wash my make-up off, and set my hair. _Then_ you can fill us in." With that, she marched toward the bathroom, picking up her bag along the way.

Malia watched her go and then turned a look on Allison. "She's gonna be at least a half hour. That's plenty of time to fall asleep."

Allison snorted. "Please. Like she wouldn't just wake you up."

Frowning, a disgruntled Malia grabbed up her pile of clothes and dropped them on the bed. "Good point."

Walking to her own bag, Allison started digging around inside for her pajamas. "You only have to share what you want to. The rest is personal." After scraping her hair up into a ponytail, Allison shrugged. "I just think it might be good for you."

Malia traded her silky party top in for a muted grey tank top and her black denim shorts for a pair of loose blue pajama shorts. She chewed her lip, wondering if a subject change at this point was possible. She tossed her clothes in the laundry basket and then sighed. "What might be good for me?"

"Talking about it."

Malia frowned. "About what?"

Allison had her back to Malia as she changed. Without missing a beat, she said quite simply, "That you're in love with Scott."

Malia coughed, choking on her own spit for a second. "I— _What?_ "

Allison turned her head to pin Malia with a knowing look, her hands smoothing out her shirt. "I'm not an idiot."

Malia swore her heart sunk down into her stomach. For a moment, all she could think was that Allison must feel betrayed. After all, Allison dated Scott, they were a thing, and Malia was clearly overstepping some kind of boundary here. Right? It didn't matter that Malia had liked him first, because nothing had ever come of that. "Allison... I—"

"It's okay." At Malia's unconvinced expression, Allison laughed lightly. " _Really_. Scott and I weren't anything. We were just getting started and I don't think either of us were all that invested. I mean... I hope we'll be friends, someday. I really do like him. But, not the way you do." Pulling on a pair of pajama pants, Allison fiddled with the drawstring and turned to properly face Malia. "I just wish you'd told me. I know I ran your dog over the first time Scott asked me out, but if I'd known... I don't know. I feel like when we met, I knew we were going to be friends. Or maybe I just really wanted us to be. And Scott's cute, but he's not worth losing a friendship over."

Malia let out a sigh of relief. "Okay. Yeah. I just... I don't now. I barely admitted it to myself, I don't think I was ready to admit it to anyone else. Except maybe Stiles, and even he had to really push me to get the words out."

Allison's brows raised. "But you do?"

"I mean... yeah. Scott is... He's my best friend. He's..." Malia shook her head. "It's hard to explain and I don't know if I really want to get into it right now. But..." Her mouth inched up in a smile. "He makes me happy."

Allison smiled so wide, her dimples were unreal. "Okay, so... What's holding you back?"

Malia frowned. "He doesn't feel the same way. And I get it. He's known me since I was a buck-toothed, jerky 10-year-old."

Allison's brow furrowed. "Wait. You think Scott doesn't have feelings for you?"

"I—"

The bathroom door swung open and Lydia appeared, her face a little pink and bereft of make-up. Her hair was rolled and wrapped and she was rubbing lotion into her hands when she smiled at them. "Don't look so surprised. I have this down to an art. And you better not have started girl talk without me." She rolled her eyes. "Sleepover rules strictly state that we should all be involved, so no more canoodling between just you two." Flipping the bathroom light off, she made her way to the bed and took a seat on the edge, folding one leg under her while the other dangled over the edge. "So... What are we talking about?"

Malia blinked. "Uh..."

"Malia doesn't think Scott likes her."

Whipping around, Malia glared at Allison.

"Sleepover rules," Allison defended with a shrug. She made her way to Malia's bed and took a seat at the top of it, her back pressed to the headboard. Scooping up a pillow, she hugged it to herself. "Come on, it's just us. You might as well tell us what happened."

Hands on her hips, Malia chewed the inside of her cheek and weighed her options. Either she talked to them and got some insight and feedback, or she went to bed and spent the whole night second-guessing everything she did and said that might've led to her and Scott's... confusing encounter. After a beat, she walked to the bed and took a seat with them, folding her legs under her and drumming her fingers against her knees. "All right, fine."

"Tell us everything," Lydia demanded. "Leave nothing out."

Malia looked back and forth between them before shrugging. "Fine. Scott showed up at the party and he... wasn't feeling great. Stiles said he'd been out of it for a while, so I tried talking to him and..." He was non-verbal, unfocused, and clearly struggling. But she had no idea what caused it or how to make it better. "I think he was just overwhelmed with the noise and so many people... I get like that sometimes, too. It's like a panic attack. So, I asked him what I could do to help and..." And he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his arms banding around her waist. She was startled, but there was something else, too. Something reassuring about the fact that he was reaching out, that he was taking comfort in her instead of running away or struggling on his own. "I tried to talk him through it, but sticking around didn't seem like a smart idea. So, I told him I was going to let Danny know I was leaving and find Stiles and we could go outside, somewhere quiet, just give him some time to adjust—"

"Wait, wait, wait. You're leaving a part out," Lydia interrupted.

Malia frowned.

"I was there." Lydia's brows hiked knowingly. "There was a very public hug or cuddle or whatever you want to call it that you two were doing."

Malia sighed. "Okay, so... We also hugged. But we hug a lot. It's not a big deal."

Lydia snorted.

"Now what?"

Allison looked between them. "I think what Lydia is _trying_ to say is that maybe this hug seemed a little more... intimate than most."

Malia shrugged. "It was just a hug. He was freaking out and he just needed it to stop for a minute, so he hugged me. It wasn't even that long, like a few minutes before I left to talk to Danny. But then I got back and Scott was missing and Cole said he was in the bathroom, so, I went after him..."

Allison looked concerned, her brow furrowed. "Was he okay?"

" _Yawn_." Lydia admired her nails. "Get to the good part, already."

Malia pursed her lips. "It was quieter in the bathroom, I thought it might help. But he..." He was frustrated, ready to pace right out of his skin. It was like that first night he shifted, when he was writhing around, struggling to breathe or think, desperate for it all to stop. "I don't know. But then he started saying something about Cole. That it looked like I was having fun, which was confusing. And then he started walking toward me and I felt like all the air was sucked out of the room. Not— Not in a bad way, exactly. I just... It was hard to breathe because he was so close and I—"

"Was turned on," Lydia snarked knowingly.

Malia ignored her. Instead, she licked her lips and said, "He almost kissed me."

Allison's voice was much gentler. "Almost?"

"Well, he..." Malia's hand raised and her fingers found her collar bone. "His mouth brushed my neck and my cheek and... and I thought... I mean, I _felt_... It felt like he was right there. And his hand was under my shirt and his fingers were so... _soft_ on my back. And his chest, I— I could feel his heart beating against mine so _fast_. And—" She swallowed. "I closed my eyes. I don't know why. It just kind of happened. And I thought I felt his lips brush against mine, but then there was this... This knock at the door and I— I woke up. You know? And I left, I kind of ran out the door, and he was there, right behind me, and then I was telling Stiles to take him home, and I just... I felt like such an _idiot_ , because he was..." She shook her head. "I knew he was freaking out and he wasn't feeling okay and I just feel like I took advantage of that. He stopped me before he left and he said he was sorry and he just looked so _guilty_ and I hate that. Because he didn't do anything wrong. _I did_. I knew he wasn't thinking straight and I basically ignored that because he was finally _right there_. Which is totally selfish and stupid and—" She stopped abruptly when she looked up to see both girls staring at her, wide-eyed. "What?" she muttered defensively.

"I'm sorry, can we go back to that semi-erotic description of Scott McCall going Harlequin?" Lydia asked.

Malia's gaze flattened. "Shut up."

"Actually," Allison cleared her throat. "Lydia's not wrong."

"Huh?"

"I just mean... I know Scott was having a freak out beforehand, but... It sounds like he was pretty focused when it was happening." Allison's brows arched. "The way you explain it with the lead-up, kissing your neck and your cheek and the way he was touching you, that all sounds pretty purposeful to me. It's not like you made the first move—"

"No, but I should've stopped him or said something." Malia shook her head. "I mean, he wasn't thinking straight."

"I'm pretty sure he wasn't thinking at all," Lydia muttered. At their frowns, she clarified, "Even nice boys can get caught up in the moment."

Malia shook her head. "You don't know Scott. You don't know our history. And..." She sighed. "It's hard to explain. I just... I feel like the timing and what happened, it just wasn't supposed to go that way."

"So, maybe next time you're more intentional about it," Allison suggested. "And maybe it doesn't happen in some strange bathroom while a whole party of people are hanging around outside. Just, make it more personal and go for it."

"You make it sound way too easy."

"Or maybe you just make it sound way too hard." Lydia waved dismissively. "Look, you like him, don't you?"

She frowned, but eventually nodded.

"So, you can either spend way too much time wondering 'what if' or you can do something about it."

"What if it blows up in my face?"

"Better to know now than spend years thinking it could be something it isn't." Lydia stared at her searchingly. "He's a good guy, right? So, the window of opportunity is only open for so long. If it's not you, it'll be someone else. You really want to watch that happen?"

Malia's gaze skirted toward Allison, who grinned. " _Hey!_ " Reaching over, she shoved at Malia's shoulder jokingly. "In my defense, I asked you if it was okay to date him and you said yes."

"Yeah, well, I'm obviously a masochist."

"Hardly," Lydia muttered. "You're just a coward."

Malia scoffed. "That's definitely worse, and also no, I'm not."

Lydia stared at her. "Prove it then. Ask him out. Or kiss him. He'll get the message either way."

"Just like that?"

"You've wasted enough time already, don't you think?"

Malia sighed. "Maybe."

"Great! Now that your drama is out of the way, we can talk about something more interesting. Like that night at the school."

Malia glanced at Allison, who looked surprised.

"You... really want to talk about it?" Allison wondered. "Because you've mostly been avoiding it when I try to bring it up."

"I've had some time to think about it and I think we should just air things out." Lydia waved a nail file around. "We were attacked, chased, locked in a classroom to fend for ourselves—"

"That's not exactly what—"

"—and the police are being weird and secretive about it. Derek Hale is on the run for turning into some kind of mass murderer. And anytime I bring it up to Jackson, he gets weird and defensive and tells me to leave it alone." Lydia turned sharp eyes on them. "Look, we all have our traumas. Some of us played tag with a killer and went missing for hours on end after the whole thing was over—"

Malia flinched.

"—others were left hoping the police would actually do their jobs while some nameless, faceless _freak_ was killing janitors and librarians. But one thing I know for sure is that we are protected by the fact that we are _minors_. Which means that none of the papers or the news can name us as the victims. Which also means... that when we get back to school on Monday, we are just normal, regular students who have no additional baggage. And I want it to stay that way."

"Do you?" Allison stared at her curiously. "Because it sounds a lot like you've got some issues you want to work out…"

"All things a little shopping therapy will cure." Lydia grinned, but it was sharp and fake. "That, and skating. Which I want to be up bright and early for." She turned to Malia then. "Your dad offered to make breakfast, right? I have a strict morning routine that involves eggs."

Malia blinked. "Uh, yeah. I mentioned that to him. I'm sure you'll have all the eggs you could eat. We're kind of stocked up on everything right now. Maybe even over-stocked. There's like six boxes of cereal in the pantry."

Allison half-smiled. "How's that going anyway?"

"Uh, good." Malia glanced at Lydia, who was back to filing her nails.

Catching on, Allison nodded, and mouthed 'talk later' back to her.

Relieved, Malia offered a topic change— "So, Lydia, what are you wearing to the rink tomorrow?"

Fashion was not anywhere near Malia's favorite subject, but it did mean that Lydia would be entirely distracted and would hopefully leave the topic of Scott and the school attack alone.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

It was late and Lydia was fast asleep, wearing a nose strip to help with breathing and a pink frilly mask over her eyes. She had opted for the blow-up mattress on the floor, Shiloh tucked under her arm, while Allison was sharing Malia's bed.

Allison turned onto her side, a hand tucked under her cheek, and stared at Malia through muted blue darkness. "So... your dad?"

"Is sober. For now, at least." Malia turned over to face her better. "He's going to AA meetings and looking for a sponsor and trying to be a mega-dad, I guess."

"Mega-dad?"

Malia's mouth screwed up in a frown. "It's like he's trying to make up for everything by being extra perfect now. He's cleaning the house and we have more groceries than we can probably eat. He's just turned the dad-ness up to eleven."

"Is that the worst thing? Better to have more food than none, right? And maybe it's weird, having him around more, but you were lonely before. Stuck out here with nobody around... It had to be hard."

"Yeah. I just..." She ground her teeth. "I feel like there should be a medium. Like Melissa or Sheriff Stilinski. They're around, they care, but it's not a performance. It's not a routine where they have to make up for all the mistakes they made."

"Maybe he just needs some time to settle in. Or maybe he's not sure what kind of dad you need him to be."

Malia hummed. "What if he can't be the dad I need him to be?"

"There's only one way to find out."

She sighed. "Everybody keeps telling me to talk to him, like that's so easy, but... We don't talk. Not really. And now it's like walking on egg shells."

"I'm not sure it'll get better if you don't say something… Maybe you could write it in a letter or something. Would that work?"

"Maybe." She shrugged. "I'll figure it out."

Allison stared at her a beat. "My dad's been acting weird, too."

Malia went very still. Curious but cautious, she said, "Yeah? How?"

"I don't know, just secretive and stuff. Ever since the school attack, it just feels like he knows something and he's not telling me. And I think my Aunt knows what it is. I see them around the house sometimes, talking intensely. But then when I get close, they change and act like everything's normal. It's just weird, you know? It feels suspicious."

Malia hummed. "What do you think it means?"

Allison sighed, her eyebrows arched. "I don't know. I mean, what could they possibly know about what happened? Maybe I'm just being paranoid... The attack was weird and now I'm freaking out, questioning everything around me."

"Maybe." That one word tasted like ash in Malia's mouth, which was a motivator for what she said next. "Or maybe your instincts are kicking in."

Allison half-smiled, confused. "And my instincts are saying to keep an eye on my dad?"

"Or just to be careful... Sometimes the people we trust most can still hurt us or lie to us or... keep things from us that they shouldn't."

"Yeah." Allison rolled onto her back and stacked her hands on her stomach. "Maybe it's better not to know then. Ignorance is bliss, right?"

"Maybe." Malia rolled over, too. "But you can't prepare for what you don't know."

Allison looked at her a beat. "What happened in the school, if it was Derek or someone else... I hated every minute of it. I hated being scared and not knowing what was coming or what they wanted. And I hated that I couldn't protect myself or _you_ or anyone..."

Malia nodded. "Me, too."

"I don't want to be that kind of person."

"What kind of person?"

Allison's lips twisted up and she blinked quick against tears; Malia could smell the salt in them. " _Weak_."

Reaching out, Malia found one of Allison's hands and folded it in her own. "I don't think you are."

"Maybe not. But... I think I want to do something. I don't know what yet. Just... _something_. I want to know that if it ever happens again, I can defend myself."

Malia nodded, but those words felt heavy. And knowing what she did about the Argent family, Malia wondered if this wasn't just a catalyst for the future. For another hunter in the making.

She squeezed Allison's hand a little tighter and hoped she was wrong.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Come morning, Malia was still rubbing crust from her eyes when she stumbled into the living room with a perky Lydia and a yawning Allison, only to find Henry wiping his hands on a dish towel, the kitchen table dressed in a breakfast feast.

Henry grinned at them rather proudly. "Morning girls. Breakfast is ready." He nodded his chin toward the table. "Poached, scrambled, and over-easy. Malia never said how you wanted them, so I figured I'd give you a few options to pick from."

Malia held her breath, waiting for some snarky jab to leave Lydia's perfectly painted pink lips. Instead, Lydia grinned and flounced toward the table. "Thank you, Mr. Tate. I think I'll have the scrambled."

Malia and Allison exchanged a surprised look and then shrugged. They joined Lydia at the table and divvied up the rest of the eggs between them, grabbing a couple slices of toast along the way.

Before Malia could ask, a jar of honey was put on the table next to her. Henry tapped the lid. "I, uh, I was thinking about it yesterday and I remembered Kylie was the one that liked jam. You were always partial to honey."

Malia felt a tug in her chest. "Thanks."

Henry nodded, half-smiling down at her. Then, he took a deep breath, tucked his hands in his jean pockets, and stepped back from the table. "Well, you girls enjoy your breakfast. I've got a meeting I need to get to. I hear you're going skating, too. So, have fun."

"Have a good meeting," Malia said through a mouthful of egg. She watched him walk out the door and make his way to his truck before turning back around.

Allison had scooped her eggs onto her toast and was taking a bite off the corner. Meanwhile, Lydia had found Henry's discarded newspaper. She had it open to the crossword puzzle and was already twirling a pen around in her hand.

Malia stared at her a beat before saying, "Pass me the comics."

After filling in six across, Lydia flipped through to the comics, pulled the sheet out and passed them over.

Malia laid them out on her right, angled between her and Allison.

Grinning, Allison leaned over so she could read them, too.

All in all, Malia thought, not a bad way to start her day.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

After a quick stop at Lydia's to pick up her favorite skating gloves (because apparently those were a _thing)_ , the girls made the trip out to the ice rink. While Allison and Lydia walked ahead, Malia stopped at the rental booth. Tapping the bell for service, she rested an elbow on the counter and stared down the hall to the open doors of the rink. She could see Allison and Lydia sitting on a bench as they traded out their regular shoes for their skates. Malia's hearing broadened; the could hear the crackle of the radio, the scrape of metal on ice, and finally, two familiar voices…

"—third time I've texted Jackson and still no response."

"Have you tried _not_ texting him? Maybe silence is the best way to go."

"Jackson takes silence as winning." Lydia scoffed. "If I don't make it clear I'm unhappy, he assumes I've given up."

"Why does everything you guys do sound like some kind of competition?"

"Because it _is_ one, and if I want to stay on top, then I have to keep the upper hand."

"By texting him repeatedly? Doesn't that sound a bit like he's the one in control?"

Lydia went quiet for a moment.

"Lyd... I'm just saying. I know you're worried because he's been acting a little off lately—"

"Not off. _Distant_. That's not a good sign. Okay? Me and Jackson are a team. We always have been. Until all of _this_ happened. Until McCall made first line and then the cougar and the school attack and it's just _too much_. This is not how we're supposed to be spending our time. Everything was going _perfectly_. But now it's changed, and I don't know where I stand anymore. The one thing I've always had is Jackson and my position on the social ladder. Those things go hand in hand. If I lose one—"

"If Jackson doesn't want to be with you because you're not popular, then he's an idiot." Quick to reassure, Allison teased, "And anyway, you don't need him to be popular. You're Lydia Martin, remember? You're kind of a big deal."

"That's sweet. _Naïve_ , but sweet." With a sigh, Lydia stood. "I'll meet you on the ice."

A sudden and loud ' _ding!'_ sung through Malia's ears. Smothering a wince, she turned around to see Boyd staring back at her, his hand poised over the service bell. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Let me guess..." His brows hiked. " _Skates_."

She snorted. "Only if you can spare a pair."

"I've seen you skate. We should start selling insurance plans."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh. You know, I could be worse."

"You could be better, too." Boyd moved down an aisle. "Size eight?"

"Close. Seven and a half."

He dug through a few pairs, rejected them, and then came back with a pair of pristine white skates. "These are about as close to new as we get."

"You're not worried I'll ruin them?"

He started pulling them back across the counter.

With a laugh, Malia reached out. "Hey, no, I'll take care of them. Pinkie swear."

He released the skates. "Try not to break your neck."

Malia hooked her fingers around the laces and picked them up. "If I do, can I get a ride on the Zamboni?"

"What do you think?"

Malia sighed. Knocking a fist against the counter, she backed up and pointed at him. "I'll convince you one day."

His mouth inched up faintly. "We'll see."

With a grin, she turned on her heel and made her way to the rink.

Inside, Allison was waiting for her, thumbing out a text on her phone. She looked up as Malia plopped down beside her. "Hey. Nice skates."

"Thanks. I have an in with the Zamboni guy."

Allison snorted. "You would."

Kicking off her boots, Malia started loosening the laces on the skates.

Allison grabbed one up to help her. "So, what're you doing this afternoon?"

"Uh, after skating I have a thing... with my cousin." She dropped her gaze to the floor as she pulled one skate on and started lacing it back up. "What about you?"

"Lydia wants to go shopping, but Kate's been texting me. She wants to meet up." Allison chewed her lip. "Kate studied martial arts when she was growing up. She's kind of a badass… I was thinking I might talk to her, ask her to teach me some things." She rolled her eyes. "I probably won't need it and I doubt we're going to run into another serial killer any time soon, but... I don't know. Peace of mind or something, right?"

Malia thought about it. She was doing the same thing, wasn't she? Meeting up with Derek to make sure she was able to defend herself and fight the Alpha. Could she really convince Allison not to do the same? Even if it was Kate, even if it was some junior version of hunting, shouldn't Allison be able to fight, too? Allison wasn't just randomly stuck in that school; the Alpha purposely texted her to lure her there. Which meant that Allison's life _was_ in danger, and maybe Malia or Scott or Allison's dad wouldn't be there to help her next time.

Sitting up, hands braced on her thighs, Malia turned to Allison. "I think you should."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's like you said, you felt scared and weak and you hated it. I know what that feels like." She nodded. "Look, I... I know some self defense, too. So, if Kate won't, then we should figure it out together. I can show you what I know or we can take a class or whatever you want, but we should do something. So even if there isn't a next time, we know we're prepared just in case."

Allison beamed. "Okay. Yeah. That'd be great."

"Cool." Malia reached over and snagged the other skate from Allison's hands. "Also, remember that I can kick ass when I'm falling on mine on the ice."

Giggling, Allison nodded. "I will."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia was starting to get the hang of this skating thing. At least enough that she didn't need to cling to Allison the whole time. She still felt like a foal on unsteady legs, but she was making progress. Her feet sometimes got ahead of her, but she was learning how to balance her core and had even picked up enough speed to pass a toddler who had clearly come out of the womb wearing skates. It was a bit disheartening just how much better she was than Malia. Not nearly as good as Lydia, though. Lydia moved around the ice like a dancer, effortlessly gliding around the rink and putting everyone else to shame with her spins and twirls.

After an hour, Malia spotted Allison leaving the ice to take a seat on the benches. Wobbling her way over, she joined her. "Hey… Tell me you're getting tired so I won't look like a wuss when I say my legs feel like overcooked pasta noodles."

Allison snorted. "A little tired, yeah." She patted the bench next to her and then raised her phone. "My dad keeps texting. I get that he's worried, but it's starting to feel a little overprotective."

Malia bent to loosen her skates and kicked them off to lay in a heap in front of her. She wiggled her toes inside her too-warm wool socks and wondered how many looks she'd get if she shed her socks, too. "Does he just want to know where you are?"

"Yeah. At first it was every few hours, then every hour, now it feels like it's every fifteen minutes." She rolled her eyes. "I thought he'd be cool about it. He seemed pretty open to me staying at your house. But, I don't know. It kind of feels like I'm grounded— limited access to everything and everyone."

"You think he'll leave you alone when you're hanging out with Kate?"

"Maybe." Allison shrugged. "I hope so. That might be part of why I want to see her. I just don't like being under someone's thumb, you know? I'm seventeen. I want some space to just… hang out and have a life."

"I get it." Malia nodded. "Maybe he'll be better about it if you give him a time frame. Let him know you're meeting up with Kate at a certain time and he'll leave you alone for that long."

"Yeah. Maybe." She turned a frown down to her phone. "It just sucks that it's interrupting this. It was supposed to be fun. The party, the sleepover, skating. But now I just feel like he's right there, waiting for something to happen. It kind of freaks me out. Like I should be worried, too." Her nose scrunched up. "Anyway, this is _so_ depressing and not at all what I want to be doing…"

"You wanna get back on the ice?"

Allison raised an eyebrow, half-smiling. "Do you?"

"I'm kind of overheated." Malia unzipped her jacket. "It takes a lot more energy to move around when you suck at skating."

"You don't suck. You're just… _learning_."

Malia snorted. "Yeah, that's a nice way to say I suck." She unraveled her scarf and dug her fingers around in the fabric for her necklace so it wouldn't get tangled when she tried to pull her scarf off. All of her digging came up empty, however, and Malia felt her heart drop into her stomach. She carefully pulled her scarf off and probed her neck and underneath her shirt, but the familiar locket was missing. She smoothed out her scarf to see if maybe it had gotten caught in it, but it wasn't there either. Malia's heartrate picked up. She tried to think back to the last place she'd had it. Did she put it on this morning, before they left? Was she wearing it at the party? When she was jogging and training with Scott? Was she wearing it before bed, when she'd shifted in the middle of the night, and woke up naked in the woods? She was usually so good about taking it off and putting it away at night. But she couldn't remember. Things had been so hectic lately. Between the Alpha and finding out she was a shifter, it was all so jumbled in her head.

Malia stood from the bench abruptly, a shaky hand finding her chest.

"Malia?" Allison stood with her. "Hey, are you okay?"

"My necklace. I— I lost it. I don't… I can't… Where did I…?" She whirled around, eyes darting across the floor, searching for even the faintest glint of metal. Was she fooling herself? It could've been lost at any point in the last five or six days. It could be anywhere. Panic flared inside her. She could feel her nails lengthen into claws and folded her fingers into her palms.

She was freaking out. What if she shifted? Right here, in front of everyone. In front of _Allison_. Who yes, might be one of her best friends, but was also the daughter of a _hunter_. What if she attacked or hurt someone? What if she couldn't shift back? Malia had no answers to any of her questions and it only made her freak out worse.

Mumbling under her breath, Malia started pacing. She needed to calm down and breathe and get control of herself. Only she couldn't stop thinking about her necklace. It was Kylie's— the last piece of her Malia had left, and she'd _lost_ it. It felt like a black hole had opened up in her chest and was slowly consuming her, bit by bit, eating away at her control. Her mind was flooded with fear and guilt and there was nothing to hold it back.

"Malia, listen, I— I'm going to call someone, okay?"

Shaking her head, Malia moved to the wall and braced her hands against it. She tried to breathe. To focus on something, _anything_. On her mother, dancing around the kitchen, singing Fleetwood Mac. ( _She is like a cat in the dark and then she is the darkness_ …) On the first day she got Shiloh, just a bright, blue-eyed puppy, eager to love and be loved. On Kylie, trailing right behind her as they raced through the woods. On Stiles and his too-big tie and his fist full of flowers, standing at his mother's grave. But every time Malia would start to feel some semblance of control, another thought would fill her head.

Her dream.

The SUV with its shattered and blown-out windows, a doll drenched in blood, and a scream caught in her throat.

Kylie was dead.

 _Dead, dead, dead_.

And the only thing Malia had to honor her, she'd lost. And what was worse was that she couldn't remember when or where or how. She'd just gone about her life, as if it never mattered.

"Uh… Is she okay?" Lydia wondered.

"I think she's having a panic attack.

Lydia hummed. "Crazy isn't a good look on anyone."

" _Lydia_ ," Allison snapped. "Now's not the time."

"Whatever. What are you doing to fix this? People are starting to stare."

Ignoring her, Allison muttered, "Pick up, pick up…"

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Come on... Just five minutes." Stiles pressed his hands together in a prayer gesture. "We go in, we catch their eye, we hang out, mingle, make them fall in love with our naturally infectious charm, you know, nothing big."

Scott shook his head. "No. Skating is their thing. Malia already said she doesn't want us showing up so you can try and get Lydia's attention."

"Hey, who said this was about Lydia? Huh? Maybe I'm trying to help _you_ out. If you haven't noticed, you've been in a mood since last night. Actually, you've been on a roller coaster of a mood. When you're not gearing up to fight strangers in the woods, you're getting all soft and gooey over Malia."

Sighing, Scott slumped down into his seat. He buried a hand in his hair and glowered at the ice rink in the distance. "She's not gonna wanna see me. We should just go."

"Dude, as soon as she sees what you've got, you're going to be her favorite person… Which isn't all that new, actually. You already rank pretty high in general."

Scott ground his teeth together. "You didn't see her last night. She was scared of me."

" _Malia?_ " Stiles snort-scoffed. "Yeah right."

"Stiles..."

"Dude, you've tracked her down in the woods, all furred out, and she never flinched."

"That's not true. That time, she cried and she was shaking... She was terrified." The memory of that, of the aftermath at least, still haunted him. The amount of fear Malia must have suffered to break down the way she had. And the amount of empathy she had to still invite him close, to hug him when he'd been so close to tearing her throat out, he could never forget that.

"Okay, maybe she was, but that's biology." Stiles waved dismissively. "Prey meets predator. She knew you'd snap out of it."

Closing his eyes, Scott rubbed his palm over his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "Look, last night, it was different. We were in the bathroom and it was like... I don't know, like a switch flipped and suddenly I wasn't scared and I wasn't unsure, I was just... _focused_. I don't know if it was Cole or the full moon or maybe both, but something in me just _changed_. It was like... I was there, I was aware of what I was doing, but it wasn't totally me. I— I wouldn't _do_ that... at least not that way. Not like I was cornering her. I feel like a creep. And now I'm worried she thinks I am one."

"Well, what happened? Did you touch her? Kiss her?" Stiles stared at him, his brow furrowed. "Did you force her?"

" _No_. At least, I don't think I did. It was weird. It was like... At first, there was all this pressure and noise, and then she was there, and I was angry. Not at her, but at Cole and myself and..." He sighed. "I was jealous, I know that. The way Cole said it, that they were working things out, it just… I don't know, it didn't sit right with me. And a part of me just wanted to prove him wrong. It was like the wolf needed to prove something. And I… I _wanted_ her. I mean, I always have, but this time it was like... I felt like she wanted me, too. Or maybe that was just what the wolf thought. I just remember that when I touched her, she was shaking, but it wasn't like in the woods. It was..." Frustrated, he scowled. "I can't explain it."

"Like she was attracted to you? Like maybe she _wanted_ you to touch her…?"

"Yeah, but..." Scott's brow furrowed. "What if she was just doing what she had to because she knew the moon was affecting me? Like in the woods, when she didn't run away and she didn't fight, she just stood there and hoped I'd come around. She's always doing stuff like that. She trusts me too much."

"Maybe." Stiles shrugged. "Or maybe you're not giving her enough credit."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... Malia's smart. She knows what she wants and what she doesn't want. And she's strong. More now than ever. Maybe that feeling you were getting, that it was mutual, was real." Stiles tipped his head, his brows hiked. "Only way you're going to know is to ask."

Scott sighed. "I guess." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I just don't want her to hate me."

"Not sure that's possible." Stiles pulled the keys from the ignition and then turned a grin on Scott. "This means we're going inside, right?"

Scott chewed his lip. Before he could answer, however, his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He shifted his hips up to dig it out and turned it over. Seeing it was Allison, he paused. Thumbing the 'answer' button, he raised it to his ear hesitantly. "Uh, hi?"

"Hey! Listen, I— I need your help. Malia is freaking out. I think it's a panic attack. Something about her sister's necklace. It fell off, I think. I don't know what to do or how to help her and you were the first person I thought of who might, so—"

"It's okay. I'm outside the skating rink. That's where you guys are, right?"

"I— Yeah. Wait, you're just outside?"

"Uh, yeah. I'll explain later." He shouldered the door of the jeep open and hopped out. "I'm coming. Just try to keep her calm."

"Okay. Thanks."

Hanging up, Scott broke out into a run toward the rink, Stiles trailing behind him, shouting questions.

Scott made it through the building and to the seating area just outside the rink in record time. He could hear Malia's heart beating, loud and unsteady in his ears. Lydia, Allison, and a tall, vaguely familiar, boy were all crowded around her. Malia was faced away from them, her hands planted on the wall, her head bowed, hair falling to shroud her face. Her shoulders were hunched and everything about her body screamed _tense_. Allison stood just behind her, a hand on Malia's back, her voice calm and soothing.

"Hey."

Allison turned around and her expression melted with relief. "Everything was totally normal. We just got off the ice, she was warm so she took her jacket off, and suddenly she was freaking out."

"She kept talking about a necklace," Lydia said, her arms crossed tightly and her brow furrowed. "I didn't take her for a jewelry freak."

Scott sighed. He made his way over, nodding thankfully as Allison stepped back and away. "Lia..." His hand found her shoulder and squeezed gently. "Hey, can you hear me?"

"I lost it. It was the only thing I had. It was all I..." She hiccupped and he could feel her whole body shudder under his touch. Her voice went quiet, enough that nobody but him could probably hear her. "I can't b-breathe or think. I'm shifting, I can feel it. Scott, please, _please_ don't let me turn completely."

"Okay. It's okay." His hand skimmed down her back and then he crouched down. He ducked under her arms so he was directly beneath her and tipped his head back so he could see her face. Fur had sprouted along her cheeks and from her eyebrows, her eyes had turned a vivid yellow, and he could see fangs poking out from behind her lips. "You didn't lose it. I know where it is."

Her brow furrowed. "What?"

He glanced quickly at the others; Allison seemed to be acting as a barrier to try and give them some space. Focusing on Malia, he said, "It fell off at the school. A link was broken, so I brought it to the mall to get it fixed. I didn't want to tell you because you hadn't noticed. I was just going to put it on your desk or something." He dug a hand into the pocket of his jacket and pulled it out for her to see. "Stiles and I picked it up this morning."

A tear dripped down Malia's cheek and fell, landing on his own. "It's fixed?"

"Like new." He nodded. "Okay?"

Malia took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose. The fur slowly faded, a sign that she was calming down. "I forgot. I didn't even notice it was gone." She shook her head and her eyes seemed to flare a brighter yellow. "What kind of sister does that make me?"

"Hey, a lot's been going on. It's okay. It doesn't mean anything. You love Kylie. And this necklace, I mean, yeah, it's important, but... Even without it, that doesn't change how much you miss her or love her or how much she mattered to you."

Malia's mouth trembled. "Maybe," she whispered. "But it's the only thing I have. The only way I can keep her close."

"You didn't lose it. I should've told you when I found it." He stood up slowly, a hand finding her waist and tugging.

Malia stepped forward, so she was upright. Her hands stayed braced on the wall, bracketing Scott in.

He stared at her searchingly. "Can you breathe now?"

She took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly.

Reaching up, he cupped her cheek, rubbing away a tear with his thumb. "Okay?"

She nodded and let her eyes, now a familiar brown, fall closed.

And Scott remembered what Stiles said, what Scott himself had always thought— that Malia was a strong person. Maybe one of the strongest people Scott had ever known. But that didn't mean she didn't have her fragile moments. That she couldn't feel weak or scared or lost. The last month or so had emphasized that more than ever. And as much as Malia went out of her way to hold the rest of them up, Scott hoped he held her up even half as much.

Stepping closer, Scott pulled her into a hug, an arm wrapped low around her waist.

Malia sunk into it, burying her face against his shoulder, and her hands clung to his back, fingers digging in.

Ducking his head down, his mouth gently brushed her ear as he murmured, "You remember when we were thirteen and we snuck into our first 14A movie? Stiles wouldn't let us get popcorn because he thought they'd catch us and we'd get put on some list and never be allowed to come back."

She snorted a laugh and nodded.

"But you really wanted Junior Mints, so we promised if we got caught we wouldn't tell on him. And as soon as we left the theater we felt like they were all staring, so instead of going back in, we got your candy and then we went into the next closest theater, only it was playing Marley & Me."

Her shoulders shook as she laughed. "And I cried."

"You made me go get napkins because there was snot _everywhere_."

" _Hey!_ "

He grinned, his hands rubbing circles over her back. "After, you just wanted to go home and see Shiloh. Stiles was still in the movie and we weren't getting picked up for a while, so I said I'd give you a ride back on my bike. Halfway there, I had an asthma attack."

She turned her head a little, mouth inched up in a smile. "We had to switch places and you kept making me stop so you could use your inhaler."

He nodded. "Yeah, but we got there. It took us a while, but we made it." Scott could feel the tension in her body bleeding away. Her shaking had ebbed and her heart had steadied. He brushed his fingers through her hair and down her neck, and when he was sure she was okay again, he leaned back. "Okay?

Malia looked up from sleepy, red-rimmed eyes. "Okay."

A slow smile turned his mouth up at either corner.

A flare of red filled her cheeks. "Well, that was embarrassing."

He shook his head. "I think you had a pretty good reason for it."

"Maybe."

He drew his hand up then and unfolded his fingers, showing her the necklace pooled in his palm. Carefully, he picked up the chain and held it out. When she nodded, he slipped it over her head. Malia caught the locket and readjusted it so it fell center against her chest. "There."

She smiled at him, relieved and content.

Impulsively, Scott leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

A beat passed before Allison cleared her throat and stepped closer, her arms wrapped around herself nervously. "So... You're okay?"

Scott leaned away, a hand still resting on Malia's shoulder.

Malia nodded at Allison, wincing awkwardly. "Sorry I freaked out."

"No. Don't even worry about it." Allison smiled reassuringly and then held her arms out, pulling Malia over for a hug of her own. "I'm just glad it worked out."

Sniffling, Malia rubbed at her nose and rolled her eyes. "I feel dumb. I know it's just a necklace—"

"But it was your sister's. I get it." Allison rubbed Malia's back soothingly and then stepped back. "I feel like maybe skating's done for the day, though. You look kind of exhausted."

Taking a deep breath, Malia nodded. "Yeah. I, uh, I should meet up with my cousin soon anyway."

 _Cousin?_ Scott exchanged a look with Stiles, who shrugged.

"Sorry I ruined skating and can never show my face here again."

The tall boy snorted. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were playing the sympathy card to get a ride on the Zamboni."

Malia turned a half-grin on him. "Would it work?"

He stared at her a moment and then shrugged. "Maybe a little." He grabbed up a stray First Aid kit then and motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. "I should get back to the desk. Make sure you drop your skates off before you head out."

Malia saluted him.

Rolling his eyes, he smiled faintly, and left.

"Who is he again?" Allison wondered.

"Boyd," Malia answered. "He goes to our school."

"Really? I don't recognize him."

Malia shrugged. "He blends in sometimes." Turning to Stiles then, she said, "Can you give me a ride home?"

"Yeah, for sure." He juggled his keys around. "Right now?"

Malia nodded. "Yeah. I'm ready to get out of here." Taking a seat on the bench to pull on her boots, she glanced up at Allison. "I'll text you later, okay?"

"Sure. Let me know how you're feeling."

"Okay." Malia stood, half-smiling at Scott when he scooped up her jacket and held it out for her to slip her arms through the sleeves. With a wave, she said, "See you guys tomorrow."

Allison waved back, but it was Lydia, standing just off to the side, her arms crossed loosely and her brow furrowed, that caught Scott's attention. She had been uncharacteristically quiet from the moment Scott got there. He couldn't help but wonder what had her so deep in her head. He'd expected her usual caustic sense of humor, but instead she'd distanced herself and shut down. Shaking off his curiosity, he followed Malia out, Stiles beside her.

"So... You're okay?" Stiles tucked his hands in the pockets of his pants and eyed Malia curiously.

"Yeah. It was mostly just a panic attack."

"Right, but those come with an extra helping of fur these days, so..." He quickly looked around to make sure no one was listening. "You were shifting, right? You're sure nobody saw something? A flash of yellow eyes or fangs or claws?"

"I don't think so. But I wasn't paying a lot of attention to anyone else. Why? You think they did?"

Stiles shrugged. "I don't know. I just think we need to be on our toes."

Scott frowned. "Stiles is right. We have to be careful. I mean, we can't really plan for panic attacks, but we need to work on controlling it. Especially now, so close to the moon. I think it's affecting things, like how we feel and what we're doing about it."

"How we feel?" Malia repeated.

"Yeah, like, feelings are more intense than usual. Anger becomes rage and worry becomes a full panic attack." Scott nodded. "That's how it was last night, too. I didn't feel like myself. Instead, I felt like everything was on eleven. You know?"

Malia's gaze darted away and she nodded faintly. "Yeah." Clearing her throat, she broke away from them then. "I have to drop off my skates. I'll meet you at the jeep."

"Oh, uh… okay." Scott's steps stuttered, but eventually evened out. He glanced back at her as she made her way to the desk, half-smiling at Boyd. A pit opened up in his stomach and he turned away. That tension was creeping up on him again, the scratching irritation and targeted pressure that made him feel like his skin was too tight.

"Are you okay?" Stiles wondered.

"What? Yeah." Scott blinked and shook his head. "Just feel weird."

Stiles stared at him a beat and then nodded. "Malia's going to be okay. It's probably like what you said. The full moon is just making you guys act weird."

"Yeah, probably." He sighed. "But what do I do about it? How do I make it better?"

"Honestly... I have no idea."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia half-smiled as she placed the skates on top of the counter. "I know I joke about it a lot, but there's really no pressure around the Zamboni thing. I mean, I think it's cool, but I don't want to get you in trouble or something."

Boyd shrugged. "It's fine. It took some convincing to get my boss to let me do it, so I try not to fool around with it much." He looked her over curiously. "You're really okay? That was a pretty intense panic attack."

"Yeah. I'm fine." She waved dismissively and chewed her lip. "My, uh, my sister died six years ago. And... It was her necklace. So, I wear it and it makes me feel like, I don't know, she's with me or something. I know that's cheesy and dramatic, but..." She shrugged. "I guess when I thought it was gone that I'd betrayed her somehow."

Boyd stared at her a long moment. "I get it."

A lot of people had told Malia in the past that they 'got it,' but she'd never quite believed them. Stiles understood what it was like to lose a parent, but a sibling was different. Kylie had been her shadow, her best friend, her partner in crime. That absence was hard to understand or replicate. But maybe for the first time, looking at Boyd, she thought someone did get it.

"Anyway, sorry I freaked you out enough to grab the First Aid kit."

"It's cool. It's a good thing McCall showed up when he did."

"Yeah." She rolled her eyes. "He's had a front row seat to a few of my panic attacks. Which makes me sound like a basket case or something. They don't happen a _lot_ a lot, just… more often than I want."

Boyd nodded. "My mom used to have panic attacks when I was a kid. Didn't let me out of her sight much." He paused. "For a long time, I thought if I just stayed with her, she wouldn't have to suffer. If she could see me, they wouldn't hurt her anymore."

"Did it work?"

He shook his head faintly. "I don't think things like that always make sense. She'd still find something to worry about and it'd still hurt her."

"So, what happened?"

"She got help." He shrugged. "Joined a group, took some meds, figured it out."

"How is she now?"

"Better, but not cured."

Malia hummed. "Emotional scars are weird. Grief sucks, but it's also weirdly comforting. Like as long as you miss them, you kind of feel like you still have them."

"Yeah." Boyd's brow furrowed. "Hard to live your life when you're stuck in your guilt though."

She swallowed tightly. "Yeah, it is."

They stared at each other a long, heavy moment. They didn't know each other well. The breadth of their association could be accounted for in a few brief interactions. But, whatever dim attempt at a connection created before felt strengthened now. An understanding that few people could grasp. And then Malia looked away. Clearing her throat, she attempted a smile. "Anyway, I should go. Thanks for the good skates."

Boyd nodded. "See you around."

"See ya."

Malia turned on her heel and left then, hands tucked deep in the pockets of her jacket. She left the rink and made her way across the parking lot, to where the jeep was idling. She climbed into the back seat and pulled the door shut with a creak.

"So, what's this about a cousin?" Stiles wondered, turning around in his seat to see her, his brow puckered.

"Derek," she explained. "I thought Allison wanted to hang out and I needed an excuse. A while ago, Cole kind of met Derek and I said he was my cousin Miguel. It's a little easier to remember a lie if I use it enough. Anyway, I'm meeting up with him. So, if you could drop me off at home, that'd be great."

"Meeting up with him for what? _Why?_ "

Malia rolled her eyes. "Does it matter?"

Stiles pursed his lips and put the jeep in drive. "A little. Yeah."

"We're going to train together." She sat back and shrugged. "He said he'd teach me what he knew."

"And you… trust him to do that?" Stiles looked from the road to her to Scott. "I mean, I thought we were doing a Rocky-style training montage together. As a group."

"We are. But, he offered, and it can't hurt to find out what else he knows."

"Right." Stiles' expression was still dubious, however. "He's not pissed the police are after him?"

"He's definitely pissed, he's just not blaming _me_." Malia turned her gaze out the window. "Anyway, this is good. He can help me with my control and fighting. The full moon is tomorrow… I need all the help I can get."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Scott chewed on the edge of his thumbnail, his gaze bouncing from the road to the side mirror. Malia was staring out the window, her brow furrowed in deep thought. Her fingers absently played with her locket and he couldn't help but remember the struggle she'd gone through at the ice rink, right on the edge of turning, struggling to stay in control. And the plea in her voice— _'don't' let me turn completely_.' That was her greatest fear right now and, while he was glad he helped stop it from happening, she was right. The countdown to the full moon was ever present and he wasn't sure he had the ability to help her the way she needed. He wasn't sure he could even help himself. Maybe it was a good thing that Derek was around, that he could help guide her through it. Even if that left a sour taste in Scott's mouth. Part of it was because of the deceptive nature of this whole situation, constantly feeling like Derek was keeping too much back from them. Important things that they deserved to know. Another part of him could admit he was jealous, though. Was Malia going to Derek because Scott couldn't do what she needed? Couldn't help her learn the way she wanted?

The jeep jerked to a stop and Scott looked up to see they were idling in front of Malia's house.

"Thanks. I'll text you guys later." Malia pushed the door open and hopped out.

Scott watched her go for a beat and then glanced at Stiles.

Stiles flipped his hands up from the steering wheel, his brows hiked. "This is the part where you go after the girl."

Scott's mouth twitched up and he rolled his eyes. Still, he took Stiles' advice and climbed out of the jeep. "Malia?"

She was on the porch, her keys dangling from her fingers.

Scott walked toward her, his palms suddenly feeling sweaty. "I, uh… Can we talk? I know you're meeting Derek, but—"

"It's fine." She shrugged. "He said to call when I got home. I've got some time."

"Oh. Okay, well…" He came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at her. "I wanted to talk about last night… Uh, in the bathroom."

Malia took a deep breath. "We don't have to. It's just the full moon, I get it."

Scott nodded. "I know, but… I owe you an apology. What happened, what I did, I—"

"You weren't in control. It's fine."

Shaking his head, he said, "That's not an excuse."

"Scott—"

He climbed a stair. "The wolf is a part of me, definitely. And it… It doesn't think the same way I do. It just… It _reacts_. And last night, I was overwhelmed. It was like I could feel what other people were feeling. There was this… _guy_ , he came up to me and Stiles in the woods, and he just felt _angry_. And I think I absorbed that or something. I don't know. It's hard to explain. But when I got to the party, I just… I _needed_ to see you. I knew that if I did, if I could just find you, that I would feel better…" He climbed another stair and stood in front of her, just inches apart. "And I was right."

Malia stared at him searchingly. "You couldn't even speak."

"No, but I… I felt _safe_. I knew you wouldn't let me do anything."

A muscle ticked in her cheek and her gaze fell.

"Malia… I need you to know that if I was thinking straight, if it wasn't so close to the moon, I wouldn't have done that. I wouldn't corner you like that or pressure you into something you didn't—"

"Wait. No. That's not…" Taking a deep breath, she shook her head and raised her eyes to meet his. "Scott, you weren't pressuring me into anything. At no point did I feel scared. I was worried about you and I wanted to help you and I knew you weren't totally in control." Her brow furrowed. "I could see it wasn't really you. Your eyes changed and your body… The way you moved… It was just _different_." She swallowed. "I should've done something. I left you alone when I knew you were freaking out and I shouldn't have."

"Hey, no, that's not on you. You didn't do anything wrong." He reached out, his fingers folding around her wrist, thumb gently rubbing against her skin. "It was just… A bad night, you know?"

"Yeah… _Terrible._ " She scoffed a laugh and looked away. "I, uh, I'll ask Derek about it. Maybe there's a trick to figuring it out or something. That way it never has to happen again, right?"

His brow furrowed. "Right. Yeah. That makes sense."

She stepped back and his fingers fell from her wrist, hand hanging limp at his side.

Scott wasn't sure where it went wrong, what he said or did, but he felt like he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere. Malia was saying all the right things, that he hadn't screwed up, that she forgave him, that she understood he would never try to hurt her, but he still felt like he had. Was she saying it to make him feel better?

"Are you going to be okay?" he wondered.

Malia nodded. "Yeah, I think I'm just tired. That panic attack really hit me hard. I'm probably gonna try to lay down for a bit before I call Derek."

"Okay." Scott dug his thumbnail into his forefinger nervously. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything about the necklace. I should've known you'd notice it was gone."

"It's okay." She reached up and wrapped her hand around the locket. "Thanks for finding it. I don't know what I'd do if it was really lost."

Feeling awkward and unsure, Scott glanced back at the jeep, at where Stiles was unapologetically watching them. He grimaced and Stiles waved his hands around in a gesture Scott had no idea how to interpret.

Turning back around, Scott found Malia had unlocked her door and was standing at the threshold, her shoulder pressed against the jamb. There was only a few feet between them, but the divide felt cavernous.

The words climbed up his throat and left his tongue, blurted out of worry. "Are we okay?"

Malia stared at him a beat and half-smiled. "Always."

"Malia…" He shook his head. "If I did something… If you need space or… Just tell me what you need and I'll do it."

Malia chewed her lip. "I'm just tired. _Really_. Last night is… It's a memory. I'll forget it in a few days. It's not a big deal. It's like you said, you weren't yourself. You'd never do that. It was all the moon."

"Okay, but—"

"Scott," she cut him off. "Just go home. I'll see you tomorrow."

Scott felt his heart squeeze before it fell abruptly into his stomach. He took a step back, nodding jerkily. "Okay. Uh…" He paused at the top of the stairs. "I hope you feel better. And… And I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean much right now, but…"

"I know." Malia shrugged faintly. "There's nothing to forgive."

She sounded like she meant it, but Scott couldn't help but feel like she was wrong.

Turning around, he walked down the stairs and toward the jeep. He heard Malia's door close behind him and flinched. Every step away from her felt like a nail in a coffin of his own making. And he had no idea how he was going to get out.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia stood, her back pressed against the door. She pressed her hands to her chest and willed her breathing to stay steady until she was sure that the jeep was far enough away that not even Scott would hear her. Once the tell-tale noise of the jeep was long gone, she sunk down to the floor and let herself crumble. Her mouth trembled and her eyes filled with a warm gush of tears. God, she was so _stupid_. Last night, she sat on her bed and told Allison and Lydia that she felt _wanted_ by Scott. She let them convince her that it was more than just hormones. She let herself believe that maybe it wasn't just the moon. That maybe, underneath the suddenness of it all, her best friend was there, reaching out like he never had before.

Her hands flared up from her chest, to her neck, where she'd felt his mouth brush against her. Maybe she dreamt the tenderness, the heat, the desire she felt swirling around inside of her. Maybe she'd wanted it to be real so badly that she read more into it than what was really there. And she'd been right, hadn't she? That being the more clear-headed of the two, she should've recognized it wasn't him. She should've stopped it. Now he was walking around blaming himself, asking for forgiveness because it was so out of character for him to want her.

Malia bit her lip and let her head fall against her door, glaring at the ceiling. Reaching up, she swiped her hands over her damp cheeks and willed the pity away. It was like Lydia said— it was better to know now than spend years thinking it could be something it wasn't. Next time, she would be ready. She would know that whatever he was doing was just a product of the moon and nothing more.

Feeling a familiar figure at her feet, Malia looked down to see Shiloh sniffing at her, tail wagging slowly, uncertainly.

Malia crossed her legs under her and let her dog climb into her lap while she dug her phone out from her pocket and thumbed through it for ' _Miguel_.'

Derek picked up after two rings.

Clearing her throat, she said, "How soon can you be here?"

There was a pause before, "You don't sound so good."

"I'm fine." She scrubbed at her nose. "Nothing I can't work off by kicking your ass."

He snorted. "You can try."

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "When?"

"I'll be there in twenty."

He hung up and Malia rolled her eyes before putting her phone aside.

Sniffling, she rubbed her nose on her sleeve, and then half-smiled down at Shiloh. "Hey, Shi… I'm an emo dork, huh?"

Shiloh's tail wagged a little harder and she rolled over expectantly.

With a snort, Malia rubbed Shiloh's stomach and scrubbed her clean sleeve over her eyes.

It was a dumb thing to be upset about. She had so much on her plate already that the last thing she needed was boy drama. It made sense to just get over this, all of it. She would train with Derek, get a better handle on her coyote, make it through this full moon, and then deal with the Alpha. That was the plan. She could do this. She _would_ do this. And in a few weeks or months, all of this unnecessary heartbreak would be a distant memory.

* * *

 **author's note** : _i know my chapters are usually much longer these days, but consider this an attempt to get back to my regular weekly updates. i have a lot more that was meant to be a part of this chapter, but i feel like that's going to take a few more days to properly flesh out. SO, i'm posting this chapter now and hoping to use the rest of what i have written, expand on it, and get the next chapter finished and ready for posting by this coming weekend. y'all have been so patient with me considering everything was so consistent in the beginning and i really do want to get back to that. so please forgive the long waits that keep popping up. i'm also behind on replying to comments, but i'll be catching up on those soon too!_

 _i really just want to emphasize the miscommunications happening in this chapter. scott, in an effort to defend his actions at the party, blames the moon entirely for what happened with malia, saying that it affects how they feel and kicks everything up to eleven. malia interprets this to mean that the moon was why he attempted to kiss her, which is why she immediately pulls away and leaves to talk to boyd. later, when scott is trying to talk to her, things are going mildly well until scott says it was a bad night. and malia takes this as scott's personal truth. how he feels about what happened. meaning that he never would've kissed her if he'd been in control of himself. so if you lay that against how she talked about it, how she viewed this moment and shared it with allison and lydia, and how they then encouraged her to pursue something, there's an issue of want/perception/reality going on. i don't want to get too deep into that because i explore it more in the next chapter. but i felt like malia's actions at the end of the chapter seemed abrupt and confusing from scott's pov, as they should since he doesn't know what the readers know. instead, he thinks that malia is just trying to make him feel better while actually feeling uncomfortable around him after the near-kiss, for a variety of reasons. again, both scott's and malia's feelings around this will be explored more next chapter, as the full moon and being back at school are going to compound._

 _i hope some of what i was trying to convey got through in the actual writing and it wasn't too choppy._

 _also, i keep bringing up jealousy, and that does apply to scott and malia, but there's a third person that i've been trying to imply is also feeling this, and that's threaded throughout, subtly, but a little more obviously in the last couple chapters. i'll be curious to see if anyone's picked up on that or has an idea of what i mean before all is revealed. :)_

 **things to look forward to next chapter** : _training; attempted family bonding; danny; conspiracy!theorist erica; the moon really starts to screw with our resident shifters; and jealousy and misunderstandings abound._

 _thanks so much for reading. please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	25. lunatic 3

**word count** : 15,614  
 **fashion** : due to the recent closing of polyvore, i've moved many of my sets to **shoplook** but they don't yet have a collection option. i'd suggest checking out this story on ao3 (sarcastic_fina) for direct links to sets for the time being. **  
episodes** : 1x08 - lunatic

* * *

 **XXV.**

Malia was fast. A lot faster than Derek was expecting. An hour into their sparring and she hadn't slowed down in the least. She attacked and attacked and she never hesitated. Not for the first time, he was glad she was on his side. She'd make for a good ally. She was still new to this, but she fought with purpose. He had an idea that part of that was due to her mood and the moon, but if she kept this up, if she polished her attacks, they had a chance against the alpha.

A kick caught him in the mouth then and he realized his distraction was costing him. Stumbling back, he gave his head a shake. Panting, Derek reached up and wiped a dribble of blood from his chin. He grinned at her through blood-stained teeth. "Sure you aren't pissed?"

Malia glared at him as she paced a circle, shaking her arms out in a gesture he was far too familiar with. "I'm sure."

"Yeah?" He tracked her progress, looking for any sign she was going to turn and strike. "Because you're not holding much back."

Her lips pursed and she glared at him from the corner of her eyes. "Am I supposed to be?"

"No. But I thought you might." He dusted his hands off and nodded his chin at her. "Your arms feel fuzzy?"

She looked at them. "A little."

"It's adrenaline. You probably get a rush when you're running. This is different. You're not scared of me, but you're on edge." He searched her face. "When Adrienne first turned, her adrenaline would spike closer to the full moon. She was already pretty moody, but full moons made her anxious. It happens to some of us more than others."

Malia bounced from one foot to the other. "How'd she deal with it?"

"Like this." He waved between them. "Her and Gab would fight it out until they were too exhausted to move." Often, Gabby was the only one that could handle Adrienne when she was like that. The only one that matched her in strength and tenacity. No matter how brutal their fighting got, Gabby always seemed to laugh it off. There was a chaotic joy the twins got from sparring. It fueled them to work harder and be better. His dad used to say that watching them fight was like going to the opera. The way they moved around each other was a dance, an art all its own.

"And that helped?"

Derek nodded. "For them. Shifters are physical. A lot of the time, instead of saying what we feel, we work it out a different way."

"By kicking each other's asses?" She snorted. "I don't know how healthy that is."

"Talking happens after. When you're so tired, you don't have a filter anymore." He backed up and planted his heels. "Kick me again."

She squinted at him a beat and then got into position. Instead of aiming at his face, however, she faked going high before letting herself drop and throwing her leg out, swiping at his ankles.

Derek was a little more prepared this time. He managed to jump up and out of the way, but it was close. He turned surprised eyes on her.

Standing, she dusted herself off and shrugged. "You would've expected it."

His mouth kicked up, impressed. "Yeah, I would've."

Malia put her hands on her hips and huffed. "You're looking at me funny. It's weirding me out."

He shook his head. "You just remind me of them."

"Your sisters?"

"They were good fighters… Never gave an inch." He paused. "Fighting is different for everyone. Some rely on strength alone, others strategize. There's a medium you have to find. A balance for both."

"What about your mom? What kind of fighter was she?"

Derek felt a wave of solemnity wash over him. "Mom preferred peace, but she was always ready for war."

Malia went quiet for a moment, her gaze darting away. She kicked at a stray rock. "Must be a hard way to live. Always expecting another fight."

Derek shrugged. "You get used to it."

"Is that a good thing?"

"You can have a life outside of it, it just takes work." Sometimes, Derek thought of New York. Of late nights in the library, bent over a stack of books and a laptop. He thought of lecture halls and the campus and the coffee shop he visited every morning before class. He thought of Laura's texts telling him to ace a test or to check in on his progress. It was a normal life, even if it was shadowed by what had happened, what he'd done, what he _hadn't_ done... But it was something. It was more than this. It was an attempt, at least.

Shaking her head, Malia paced. "Are you? Ever since Laura died, your life has been all about the Alpha. The police are looking at you for murder, but you stay anyway. You had a life before. For a while anyway."

"Considering your own history, I'd think you'd get that a little more than most."

Malia paused and turned to him, her gaze flinty.

"What happened? What pissed you off?" His eyebrows arched. "Was it your dad? Scott? Allison?"

"Maybe it's just life in general. Not even a week ago, everything I know was turned inside out. Just last month I realized werewolves are _real_ and not some B-rated movie plot. And now I've got a full moon creeping up on me and I have no idea how I'm going to deal with it!"

"You want advice?"

"I don't know what I want! I hate that I even have to ask for anything. I used to be completely in control of my life. Who was in it, what I was doing, how I felt—"

Derek snorted.

She glared at him. " _What?_ "

"You can't control everything." Crossing his arms, Derek raised a knowing eyebrow. "It's not possible. You can try, but there are always going to be variables you didn't account for."

"Like what?"

"Like your dad getting sober. Like Scott getting bitten. Like your new best friend coming from a family of hunters." He shook his head. "Things happen, Malia. You can't always plan for it. All you can do is deal with it."

Malia's hands folded into fists. "I don't want to _deal_ with it. I want my life back. I want my _choice_ back."

"That's not how this works."

" _Why?_ " She stared him down from angry, yellow eyes. "Why can't I just find control and move on? No more Alpha, no more full-moon _bullshit_ , no more fur or claws or any of it. If I can control the shift, I never have to do it again."

Derek took a deep breath. "You're scared. That's normal."

She scowled. "You don't know what this feels like."

"Maybe not entirely. But I remember what it was like when I first turned. Everything felt stronger, deeper than it did before. Try being a gangly kid in the middle of puberty and add a layer of fur, strength, and speed that you weren't prepared for. Even growing up around shifters, you _think_ you know what it's like. But when it happens, it's a whole new learning experience. It takes work to get it under control, but when you do... It becomes a part of you. And you become a part of something bigger."

Malia scoffed. "You keep saying that. Like this is a gift. But it doesn't feel that way."

"Why?"

"Because I... I'm constantly scared I'm going to hurt someone or expose myself or I'll turn and I won't come back."

"You have people around you ready to help with that."

"Those are the same people I don't ever want to _hurt!_ "

"Then trust them to know their own limits."

"You make it sound so easy!" She turned her back to him and strode away, shaking her head. "Stiles, my dad, Allison, they're human. This morning, I was freaking out at an ice rink over a necklace. And I started to turn, I could _feel_ it. Allison was _right there_. If I hurt her... If I turned in front of her..."

"Chris Argent would hunt you down."

"And my dad and Scott and _you_." She turned around, brown eyes shiny with unshed tears. "This was why I stayed away from people. Even _before_ I was a shifter. I never wanted to get close to people. Before, it was about losing them. Now, it's about hurting them."

Derek walked toward her. "So, you find a way to connect with the coyote."

"I don't want to connect with her! I want to get rid of her." She snapped her teeth. "I don't want to spend my life worried that she's going to take over."

"That's not what she is. She's a part of you. She _is_ you."

Malia shook her head and tipped it back, closing her eyes. "You don't get it."

"My mom was like you, so was Laura. There's a transition period."

"Everything is a transition period," she muttered.

"Yeah, it is. And when you're done, you're better for it."

"Better how?" She crossed her arms, a defensive position that spoke volumes. "Faster? Stronger? What if I don't care about that?"

"You want to keep the people you care about safe, right? Not just from you, from everything. The Alpha, the hunters, all of it. _This_ is how you do that. You fight me, you learn control, you accept the coyote, and you do something about it."

Malia stared at him a long beat. Eventually, she took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine. I'll stick with fighting for now."

Derek half-smiled. "I thought you might."

Her eyes glowed a bright yellow before she advanced, baring her teeth as she growled.

She wouldn't pull her punches. Wouldn't hesitate to attack in every way she could. There was a feral ferocity to her that could not be tempered.

As formidable as Malia was, Derek liked that she didn't hold back. She reminded him so much of his sisters that he couldn't help but like it, even as he bled for the sake of her growth.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Hours later, Malia laid on the ground, her arms and legs star-fished around her. There was a rock digging into her back, but she was too tired to do anything about it. Her chest heaved with each panting breath as she stared at the blue sky above, framed by reaching tree branches. It felt good. Now that it was over, her body felt a little less chaotic, her emotions less fractured. She'd spilled blood, Derek's more than her own, but she didn't feel bad about it. He would heal. What mattered more was that she learned something. To attack and defend. But that still left a gaping hole in her understanding...

"What happens on the full moon?"

"You'll shift."

"Into the coyote?"

"Maybe. You might hold her off a while." He paused. "My mom said her first full shift didn't happen until she was thirty. She was pregnant with Laura and... it just happened. She said she felt different; the moon was stronger somehow."

"Did it hurt?"

"She said it felt like being flayed the first time. When she shifted back, she was scared that it had hurt the baby, but... Laura was fine. And after that, each time she turned hurt a little less. Until it didn't hurt at all. It just came naturally."

"Why'd it happen to her? Why so late?"

"My dad thought it was all a learning process. That only people who had gone through some kind of spiritual growth or journey could do it. It's rare in our culture."

"What about Laura?"

Derek paused a beat, before saying, "The first time she shifted was after the fire… We were leaving town, trying to get as far away as we could, but something went wrong. She pulled over, ran into the woods, and... shifted. It took hours to track her down and when I did, I don't think she wanted to turn back."

"Because it hurt."

"You said when you turned that the coyote wanted to run away and hide. I think Laura's wolf wanted to do the same thing. She didn't want to deal with the grief."

"But she turned back." Malia turned her head to see him, sitting on the ground with his back against a tree, a water bottle dangling from his hand. "Why?"

Derek's gaze turned distant. "She curled up in a ball and the fur just faded away. And she was crying, shivering... I'd never seen her like that. She was always the strong one." He swallowed tightly. "I think she came back for me. Because she wasn't sure I could do it alone."

Malia stared at him a long beat. "Maybe she didn't want to be alone either."

He blinked and focused on her once more. "Maybe. _"_

Malia let her gaze move back to the sky and took a deep breath. Her heart was evening out, her breathing had steadied, and now she felt the warm, swamping sensation of sleepiness. "Can the moon make you feel things that aren't real? Things you don't actually feel?"

"You remember what I told you about chemosignals?"

"That it's like reading a person's emotions. What they're feeling leaves a smell behind and you can read it."

"You become extra sensitive to things like that when the moon is full."

"So, if you were around someone who was angry, you might get angry, too?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. It can be overwhelming if you don't know how to shut it out. And when there's a lot of people around, it's worse."

"Then avoiding school tomorrow is probably a good idea?"

He snorted. "I'd recommend it."

"Yeah, well, I don't think they'll take a note from my fake cousin Miguel." She could feel Derek's gaze heavy on the side of her face. Gathering her courage, she pushed the words out from a throat that felt too tight. "What about love? Attraction? Something like that."

"It depends on the people. Attraction is one thing. At school, that's a lot of feelings condensed into one place. The stronger the feelings are, the more intensely you're going to feel them."

Malia thought of the party. A house full of hormonal teenagers who were half-drunk and looking for someone to rub against. She thought of Scott's intensity in the bathroom. The clear realization that he was not entirely himself. The way he stalked toward her with purpose.

"Can it change you? What you do, how you feel, that kind of thing?"

"Temporarily. Depending on your willpower."

She turned to look at him, her brow furrowed.

"It's a catch-22. You're stronger physically when the moon is full. But your judgement, your ability to separate feelings, that's weaker. At least in the beginning, when you're still figuring it out."

Swallowing tightly, Malia looked away again, not ready to see what Derek's face might say— judgement, pity, understanding. "How long before you can shut it out?"

"Depends on the shifter."

"But with time, it goes away?"

"Eventually. You'll still pick up on things, but you won't absorb them."

Malia nodded faintly. "You said love had a signal. That we'd be able to pick up on it."

"Yeah."

"Is there a way to hide it? To make it so another shifter can't find out?"

Derek didn't answer right away and Malia felt her face warm with embarrassment.

"You can hide your chemosignals. It takes a lot of time to figure out how, but it's possible."

Malia nodded. "Let's add that to lesson two."

Derek pushed up from the tree and crossed the forest floor to her then. Hands on his hips, he leaned into her line of vision. "You want a ride home?"

Malia held a hand out for him to help her to her feet.

Taking it, he gave an easy tug. Malia found herself upright almost dizzyingly fast. He brushed a few leaves from her shoulders and then jerked his head toward his car. "Call me when you get back from school tomorrow. The moon won't be completely in effect until night fall. That gives us some time."

"To what?"

With all the grace of a sledgehammer, he said, "Chain you up."

Malia grimaced. " _Great_."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Realizing her dad was home, Malia had Derek drop her off around the corner to her house and walked the rest of the way. Sweaty and heavy-limbed, she crossed the driveway to find Shiloh laying on the porch, the front door cracked open, and the faint sound of the radio playing. Shiloh's tail thumped the closer Malia got and she raised her head to watch her, tongue lolling from the side of her mouth.

"Hey, you." Malia bent to scrub her fingers over Shiloh's head. The mouth-watering scent of spaghetti sauce wafted on the air and Malia inhaled deeply.

"It's still one of your favorites, isn't it?"

She looked up to see her dad standing in the doorway, a dish towel over his shoulder. Malia nodded. "Yeah. Can't go wrong with homemade sauce."

"It's still gonna be a little while. I'm letting it simmer. But I thought, if you didn't have any plans tonight, we could have dinner together. Maybe get a chance to talk."

His words were steady, but his expression screamed 'awkward.' Over the last few days, Malia had been told repeatedly that she should just sit down and talk to him, maybe now was the time to act on that advice.

"Sure. I'm going to take a shower and get changed first." Standing, Malia plucked at her shirt for emphasis. "I went for a run and I stink."

"Yeah, of course." Henry stepped back, out of the doorway, to let her pass. "How, uh, how was skating?"

"Good." Minus the total freak out she had over Kylie's necklace. "Thanks for breakfast this morning."

"Happy to. I'm just glad you're having your friends over more."

Half-smiling, Malia nodded and made her way across the living room. "Call me when dinner's ready?"

"You got it! "

Malia made her way down the hall and into her room, closing the door behind her. She stripped out of her sweaty workout clothes and turned her shower up high. Even with her supernatural healing ability, her muscles still felt sore. A hot shower would help loosen them up.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After her shower, Malia threw on her comfiest and warmest pajamas, threw a load of laundry in, and took a seat at her desk to open her laptop. After making sure she had, in fact, finished all her homework, she opened Skype. Stiles was online and, while she hesitated to immediately make contact, she knew he probably wanted to talk. After the skating rink, she'd been a little short with both Scott and Stiles. It might've been to protect herself, but that didn't mean she wanted to lose their friendship. And they needed each other now more than ever.

Tapping his name, she waited for him to answer, and drew one of her legs up, balancing her heel on the edge of her chair.

Stiles' grinning face filled the screen. "Heyyy... She survives another run-in with Derek Hale."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh."

Sitting back in his chair, he tapped a pencil against his homework, spread out in front of him. "How'd it go?"

"Good." She sat back and nodded. "We sparred for a while. He explained a lot about full moons and how they affect us. We can absorb people's feelings, at least for the first while, until we figure out how separate everything and stay in control. It's harder in big groups of people, so obviously school is going to be _great_."

Stiles snorted.

"He offered to chain me up tomorrow." She grimaced. "I'm not happy about it, but I get it. He said to give him a call after school."

Stiles pulled a face. "You think that's the best idea? You're basically trusting that he won't let anything happen to you."

Malia shrugged. "His mom and his sister were like me. If anybody knows how to deal with this stuff, it's him."

"He knows the mechanics of it, sure. But he doesn't know _you,_ not the way I do." Stiles shook his head. "I'm not saying chaining you up is a bad idea. I just want to be sure the guy with the chains has the right intentions."

Malia shook her head. "I don't think Derek would do anything to intentionally hurt me."

"'Intentionally' is the part I'm having trouble swallowing. Things happen. Things go wrong. The police and probably hunters are on his tail. What if you get caught in the crossfire?" Stiles' brows hiked. 'This is the one night of the month that the hunters know for a fact that shifters have less control. They probably consider it a free pass to shoot first and ask questions later."

"Maybe. But what are you going to do with two of us? I know you want to help, but there's only so much one person can handle. And we're really not sure how we'll react to it. Scott was all over the place the first time he turned. It's supposed to get less confusing and less painful as time goes on. Maybe he does better this time and maybe he doesn't. What I do know is that my first shift hurt like hell. And when the coyote gets in control, she has a goal. I'm not sure she'd like it if someone got in the way of that."

"What, you think she'd hurt me?" Stiles looked skeptical. "We tracked you down and turned you back once. I'm pretty sure I could do it again."

"Maybe. But that wasn't a full moon. She might not be as logical when the moon's out."

Stiles leaned back in his chair and scrubbed a hand over his head. "So, this is what you wanna do? You wanna trust Derek and leave me with Scott?"

"I'm not _leaving_ you with Scott. I'm trusting you to do the right thing with him. If that's chaining him up too, okay. If it's not and you think he's handling it better, okay." Malia shrugged. "I trust your judgement and I know you'll do whatever he needs, even if he can't see it."

Drawing a deep breath, Stiles nodded. "Okay. But as soon as the sun's up and you're back to your same old self, I want an update. I don't like this splitting up and hoping for the best stuff. We're better as a team."

"It's one night." Malia shook her head. "We get through this and then everything's back to normal."

"Is it?" Stiles wondered. "Do we even know what normal is anymore?"

"I thought you liked this stuff. Werewolves, werecoyotes, hunters, oh my..."

"It's interesting, don't get me wrong. And it opens some doors I never thought it would. But..." He scratched his chin and sighed. "I don't know. Hard to think it's fun when it feels like everything keeps blowing up in our faces. Yours obviously furrier then mine."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

"Hey, I'm baring my soul here!"

"You know I meant the facial hair stuff." She pursed her lips. "Derek seems to think if we can just deal with the Alpha, then things can calm down. Maybe he's right. Maybe we figure out how to stop the Alpha and we go on to live normal, productive lives as people who occasionally shift when the moon is full."

"Would you want that?"

Her brow knit. "What do you mean?"

"To just be normal again and not have to worry about all this shifter stuff. I mean, you were excited in the beginning, when you were figuring out what you could do. Does that all go away because the Alpha's gone? Do you just hide your abilities and never use them if you can help it?"

"Stiles..." She stared at him knowingly. "We're not superheroes. We're not gonna save lives or fight villains or... save the world. We're high school students. We're going to cram for tests and fail miserably and go to college or not go to college. You're gonna join the FBI, Scott will be a vet, and I'll... I don't know. Travel to France and become a beatnik or something."

"Yeah..." He snorted. "I don't think you have the poetry skills to be a beatnik." He tapped his pencil against his books. "And I just think we shouldn't rule the superhero thing out. Maybe it's a calling."

"And maybe I'm not picking up."

He nodded slowly. "That's your choice. I get it."

She shook her head. "I just want to make it through the next couple days. That's it."

"Speaking of... What happened earlier?"

"What, at the ice rink?"

"No. With Scott." Stiles' brow furrowed. "He seemed pretty messed up after you two talked."

Malia's heart squeezed. "Nothing. It was dumb."

"That usually means _'something,'_ and it was serious."

Turning her gaze away, she stared at a picture board on her wall, spanning years of her friendship with Scott and Stiles. There were dance stubs, a ribbon from her corsage, movie and concert tickets all mixed around with snapshots of them dressed up and dressed down. "It was a stupid miscommunication and... I was just tired and overemotional and not ready to talk about it. He kept apologizing and I get it, but I can't deal with it right now. I know I'm overreacting and that's probably the moon, but... I don't know. After the party and Kylie's necklace and my panic attack, I just need space."

Stiles stared at her beat. "Even from Scott?"

"Is that not allowed?"

"No, of course it is. I just... don't think you've ever wanted that."

"We've fought before. We don't agree about everything ever." She shook her head. "This isn't any different. Things are intense right now. It's probably smart we stay away from each other anyway. With the way the moon's going to affect us. Maybe coyotes and wolves don't get along as much as we think."

"I'm pretty sure wolves and coyotes mate sometimes." Stiles sat up a little taller, his 'thinky' face on. "Hey, did you know coyotes have monogamous pair bonds? Yeah, I've been reading about up on it. An alpha female and alpha male will co-lead their pack. That's cool, right?"

Malia nodded. "Yeah. It's interesting."

"I'll send you a link to what I found."

She half-smiled. "Thanks."

A knock at her door caught her attention then and Malia turned her head. "Yeah?"

"Dinner's ready!" Henry called through the door.

"Okay. I'll be out in a minute." She listened to his footsteps as he left and turned back to the screen. "I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure. Am I picking you up or does that honor go to Allison?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "Allison's dad is driving her to school. She texted me earlier. I guess he's still pretty worried after the school attack."

"Hey, speaking of..." Stiles sat forward in his chair, glanced at the door, and then focused on her. "My dad's been asking about you. He never got a formal statement..."

"Oh... Right."

"Which reminds me, does your dad even know what happened? You know, minus the supernatural stuff?"

Malia went still. "I guess I should tell him... before someone else does." Sighing, she sat forward. "If your dad really wants to talk, it'll have to be at least Tuesday."

"I'll mention it to him."

"Okay. See you tomorrow."

"Bye."

Exiting Skype, Malia stood from her desk and scrubbed her hands over her forehead. She was already dreading a conversation she had no idea how to even broach.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

The scrape and tap of cutlery against plates was obnoxiously loud. Malia could hear the clock ticking away the seconds, a ball of nervous energy sitting in the pit of her stomach. Her dad had tried to start a number of conversations, but they hadn't gone anywhere. Her attempts were half-hearted, she had to admit. She knew what they _needed_ to talk about, but she wasn't sure she was ready to crack that door open. Unfortunately, everything seemed tied to each other in some way or another.

"Are you feeling okay? I know the school's back open tomorrow. I never got a chance to ask you why it was closed."

Malia swallowed tightly. Well, if she was waiting for an opening... "About that..."

Henry looked up from his food, his brows arched curiously. "Yeah?"

"There, uh, there was an attack at the school."

He frowned. "Another animal? I thought they caught that mountain lion."

"They did. It's dead. It wasn't an animal that attacked the school. It was a person. And… he killed someone. Two people, actually."

Henry's eyes widened. "What? Who? Was it a student or staff? Did you know them?"

"Both were staff. It was a custodian, I didn't know him, and the librarian— her name was Trisha." Malia put her fork down and dropped her hands to her lap, folding them into fists. "I… I was at the school when it happened. I was in the library, actually. I was studying for a math test and… It's complicated, but basically, someone put a crowbar across the doors and we couldn't get out. The way the school's set up, they open the library to students but you can't get into the rest of the school without a key. Since we couldn't get out and we had a bad feeling, we convinced Trisha to let us into the school…"

Henry pushed his food away and clasped his hands together, tucking them under his chin. "Malia…"

"Just listen, okay? I need to get it all out and we can talk about it after."

He stared at her a beat and then nodded.

"Okay, so… Trisha unlocked the door, but she didn't stay with us. She went to find the custodian to figure out what was going on. She didn't think we were really in danger. She left because… I don't know, because she thought she'd be safe. She thought we all would be. But… I knew she was wrong. I knew and I still let her go." Her chest squeezed. "I went the other way with Danny and Erica. We just wanted to find a way out. But then Stiles was texting me and he said… He said someone killed the janitor. Him and Scott were trapped in the school, too. They were outrunning whoever was in the school and we needed to get out."

Henry rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head.

"I know what you're thinking and we did call the cops— they said they got a warnng that kids from the school were going to call in a prank so they didn't take us seriously."

Dropping his hands, Henry stared at her. "What'd you do?"

"I broke a window and I got Danny to jump out. He was the tallest and the strongest. And then I got Erica to jump out so he would catch her."

Henry swallowed. "You didn't jump." He said it like he knew— like he never expected her to even try.

"No. I told them to get help. To go to the police and convince them it wasn't a prank."

He sighed. "What then?"

"It's all kind of a jumble. Scott and Stiles and a few others were trapped in the cafeteria and I was trying to find them when I slipped… There was blood on the floor. _Trisha's_ blood." She shook her head. "I wasn't thinking clearly. I went to the locker rooms to wash it off and I guess when I was gone, Sheriff Stilinski showed up. He got everyone out, but they couldn't find the killer."

Henry stared at her a long beat. "You went through all that and you never said anything?"

"It's not a big deal. I mean, I'm fine. So are my friends. We got out."

"Malia…" He let out a long, heavy breath. Pushing his chair back, he walked around the table. She wasn't sure what to expect, but when he crouched down and pulled her into a hug, she felt her whole body go completely still for a second. And then she sunk into it.

Burying her face against his shoulder, she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed in the familiar scent of his cologne. It stung her nose, her senses still too sensitive, but she didn't care. It was _him_ and he was reaching out in a way she didn't know she needed.

"Honey, I'm sorry. You must've been scared out of your mind."

The words crawled up her throat, clawing all the way. "I let her go. I knew something was wrong and I didn't stop her."

He squeezed her tighter. "You can't blame yourself for something someone else did. This librarian did the right thing letting you out, but she made her own choices after that. You're just a kid. That's not on you."

Malia leaned back and swiped at her eyes before the stinging tears that filled them could fall. "But I was there. I should've done something."

"If you ask me, you did too much. Sticking around was noble, but dangerous." His hands found her shoulders. "What if you were hurt, huh? Or something worse?"

"I couldn't leave them behind. They're my friends!"

Henry stared at her a moment; she could see a muscle in his cheek tick as he ground his teeth. He clearly wanted to say something more but was trying not to.

"Look, I… I know it was reckless, but I made the best choice I could while it was happening. And I'm not going to apologize for trying to protect the people I love."

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. I don't know what it's like. I don't know what you were feeling when it was happening. But I know that you've been through some stuff. More lately than most kids. Maybe… Maybe you take another day off. Maybe we, I don't know, we look into counseling or something. You should talk to someone about this stuff."

"I do. I have Scott and Stiles and Allison. I don't need a counsellor and I don't need another day off." Malia shook her head. "I'm fine. _Seriously_. I can handle this."

"Malia—"

" _Dad_ ," she interrupted. "It happened and it's over and I'm dealing with it."

"I just want you to be okay." He shook his head. "I've made so many mistakes, I don't want this to be another one. If you're struggling—"

"I'm not." She swallowed tightly. "I feel bad about Trisha and yeah, maybe I blame myself a little bit. But… I'm okay."

Henry hesitated a moment before eventually nodding. "If that changes, if you think maybe you need some more help…"

"Then I'll tell you."

His brows hiked. "You promise?"

Malia felt her heart sink into her stomach as she lied, "I promise."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After an overemotional dinner, Malia returned to her bedroom. She curled up on her bed with a book she couldn't concentrate long enough to read and her phone. It was late. Her homework was packed away in her bag, leftover spaghetti was put away for lunch tomorrow, and she'd even wasted a while picking out an outfit to wear— Lydia would be proud.

Her phone buzzed, giving her a much-needed distraction. Turning it over, she saw Danny had texted her— ' _ready for your test tomorrow?_ '

She snorted. —' _define ready..._ '

He texted back a 100 emoji and — ' _you've got it in the bag_ '

Rolling onto her stomach, she thumbed back— ' _yeah, we'll see._ '

His response was quick— ' _i'm an excellent tutor. i might even bring you some skittles if you're good_ '

Malia rolled her eyes— ' _bribery, the quickest way to my heart_ '

Danny sent a winky emoji.

As Malia was getting ready to sign off and say goodnight, another text popped up.

— ' _hey have you talked to erica lately?_ '

Malia frowned. — ' _lately? no. why? what's up?'_

Danny started to text, but then stopped. A beat passed before finally— ' _better in person. talk tomorrow!_ '

She scowled— ' _you know i'm impatient'_ She paused and added— ' _is she okay at least?_ '

This time he didn't hesitate— ' _she's fine. it's nothing bad. just a theory. we'll talk first thing! night!_ '

Sighing, she texted back— ' _fine. night._ '

Plugging her phone in, she double-checked her alarm was set and then placed it on her bedside table. Flipping her lamp off, she stared at the ceiling and hoped for a miracle. Tomorrow she was due for a day of chaos and all she could ask was that she didn't hurt anyone in the process.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

" _—beautiful Monday morning. Beacon Hills High School is back open after being closed Thursday and Friday—"_

Scott glared at his alarm clock radio and pulled the blanket up over his head.

 _"Police search continues for alleged killer Derek Hale_ —"

Melissa raced across the room and turned the radio off abruptly. "We should probably set this to buzzer." Crouching down, she tugged the blanket off his head. "You alive in there?"

Scott stared at the corner of his bedside table instead of her. "No."

Tipping her head, she pursed her lips. "Not ready to go back to school?"

"No."

"You want to stay home another day?"

"No."

"Want a brand new car?"

Brow furrow, his gaze darted to her.

She grinned and shook her head. "Me, too."

Frowning, Scott started kicking his blankets off.

"This isn't just about what happened at the school, right? Is it about what's her name? Do you want to talk about it?"

Scott hopped out of bed and started for his bathroom. "Her name is Allison and no, it's not about her. We broke up. It's fine."

"I've been through a few breakups myself, you know? I mean, _disastrous_ ones, actually."

"I don't care about your breakups, mom. I'm not upset about Allison." He shrugged. "We're friends, kind of."

"Okay, not Allison. Then… is it about Malia?"

His brow furrowed. "What?"

Melissa stared at him knowingly. "There's not a lot of people in your life that get a reaction like this."

He pursed his lips. "Like what?"

She raised an eyebrow. "This attitude? Not cute. I was sympathetic when I thought maybe the attack at the school had you moody. But if it's something else… Either we talk about it or you find a way to deal with it. I'm not the bad guy here."

Scott sighed and tipped his head back. "Malia's mad at me."

"Okay. Should she be?"

"I think so, yeah." He ground his teeth. "She says she isn't, but… I don't know. It doesn't feel right."

"What's it feel like?"

"Like I hurt her." His shoulders slumped. "That's the last thing I want to do."

"Did you tell her that?"

"Kind of. I think." He frowned. "I don't know. It feels like she's saying the right thing, but she doesn't really mean it."

"That doesn't sound like Malia. She's usually a straight-shooter."

Scott fell against the door jamb, his hand tucked behind his back. "I know, but things are different right now."

"Different how?"

"Just different!" His voice raised, both with irritation and frustration. Groaning, he let his head fall back. "What if I totally screwed it up? What if she never wants to talk to me again?"

"Scott… Look, you don't have to tell me everything that happened. It's personal, I get it. But, I know you and I know Malia, and I don't think there's any risk of you two falling apart like that. You're been so close for so long… Things happen sometimes. The best thing you can do is give her some space and, when she's ready, talk it out."

"How do I know when she's ready?"

"She'll let you know. And if she doesn't, Stiles will be playing middleman, I'm sure."

Scott paused, his brow furrowed. "Middleman…"

"He's gotten pretty good at it over the years."

"Yeah," he muttered. But he wasn't thinking of Stiles. What he really needed was to talk to someone else, someone just as close to Malia that might have another perspective on things. Someone like Allison. She would tell him how Malia was doing… right? Sighing, he pushed off the wall. "I need to get ready for school."

"Okay. Good talk." She gave a little rah-rah fist shake and Scott rolled his eyes.

"Bye, mom." He stepped deeper into the bathroom and swung the door shut.

"Have a good day at school!" she called out to him as she left.

 _Yeah, right_. At this point, he was just hoping he didn't snap and maul someone.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia sat slumped down in the passenger seat, her bag in her lap, glaring at the radio.

"Is it the music or the moon that's making that face?" Stiles wondered.

"A little of both. The static doesn't bother you?"

He shrugged. "It's an old jeep. I hardly notice it anymore. Anyway, don't dodge the real question. How are you feeling?"

"Tired, mostly. I didn't get much sleep."

"Because you're worried."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm worried."

"Okay, but what part worries you more? Attacking someone or turning?"

Reaching out, Malia socked him in the shoulder. "What kind of question is that?"

Mouth wide open in a silent shout, he glared at her. " _Ow!_ Did you forget you have super-human strength?"

Pursing her lips, she stared him down through narrowed eyes. " _No_. I didn't."

Rubbing his arm, he sighed. "All right, fine. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I meant which one feels more _likely_. Turning into the big, bad coyote or tearing out someone's jugular. But given the early morning _violence_ … I think I can guess."

"I don't know, okay? That's the part that's freaking me out. I won't know until I'm right in the middle of it, with everyone's stupid feelings overwhelming me." Crossing her arms, she slumped down even lower. "I should've skipped. This is beyond risky."

"Definitely. _But_... It's a good learning experience, right? And hey, nothing says you can't skip out if you feel like things are going sideways."

She perked up a little. "That actually helps," she admitted.

Stiles let out an offended scoff. "You say that like you're surprised I had a good idea."

Her lips quirked at the corner. "Maybe I am."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "What happened to last night's 'I believe you'll make the right choices for Scott'?"

"I still believe that." She shrugged. "You're good in a crisis."

"Why do I here a 'but' coming?"

"But we're not at crisis mode..." She stared out the window; the school was just a brown block in the far distance. " _Yet_."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Stiles leaned against the bank of lockers, a hand hooked around the strap of his backpack, watching her curiously. "Feel anything yet?"

"Irritation. At _you_." Malia opened her locker and dug around inside for her books. "For asking me that every five seconds."

"Hey, I waited at _least_ five minutes before saying anything." He turned his head and looked around the hallway. "Maybe it affects you differently, you know? Like maybe coyotes have a higher threshold for this stuff."

Malia's mouth twisted. "I doubt it."

"All right, Pessimistic Polly. All I'm saying is that maybe we should try hoping for the best. What could it hurt?"

"Isn't it better to be cautious? If something sets me off, it could hurt a lot of people, and not metaphorically."

Stiles sighed. "Okay, so, we prepare for the worst. Which means we find a way to keep you calm and semi-happy."

"Semi?"

"I'm not expecting miracles here."

She snorted. " _Thanks_."

"Hey, you're not the only one suffering, all right? I have a chem test first thing this morning."

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, "Boo-hoo," but her mouth was inching up in a smile.

Stiles half-grinned at her. "See? We can do this." With a nod, he started backing away. "I gotta go. My dad's dropping by the school to talk to the principal and I wanna catch him."

Malia's brow furrowed.

"I just wanna warn him."

"Stiles…"

"I won't tell him everything." He waved a hand to quiet her. "I just need him to be careful, that's all."

Blowing out a heavy sigh, she nodded. "I get it."

With a wink, he turned on his heel to leave.

Malia watched him go before returning to her locker. She was just pulling down her books when a familiar face popped up next to her. Brightening, she managed a full-fledged smile. "Hey!"

"Hey." Danny rested a shoulder against the lockers and hooked his hand around the strap of his side-bag. "So… how are we feeling about this test?"

Malia's nose scrunched up. "I hate math on a good day… And today's not a good day." Closing her locker, she tucked her books in the crook of one arm and started walking. "Have you got my Skittles?"

"Yeah, but you're not getting them until after you finish your test. Anyway, you don't need a sugar rush this early in the morning."

"I doubt sugar's going to do much." Malia shrugged. "But fine. What'd you wanna talk about? Something about a theory Erica had?"

The bell rang shrilly then and Malia frowned.

Danny grinned, dimples popping handsomely. "Right. The theory." He raised an eyebrow at her. "We should talk about it at lunch. All three of us." He pointed a thumb toward a connecting hallway. "I'm going this way."

"What? That's it?" She scowled. "That's all I get?"

Danny shrugged. "If I say anything now, you'll just be distracted in class."

"What makes you think not knowing is going to make me any _less_ distracted?"

"You'll survive." With that, he turned and left.

Malia glared after him before turning to walk away. The halls quickly filled with students moving to and fro, crossing in front of her close enough that she was nearly tripping over them. The noise, already at an uncomfortable decibel, ratcheted up to her ears. Suddenly, rubber soles on polished floors sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Shoulder to shoulder with people, she felt penned in. She could feel her heart beating unsteadily against her ribcage, her hands clammy against her books. Focusing on her breathing, she moved to the edge of the hall and tried to keep her head down. She just needed to get to class. She could see the open door in the distance, familiar students filing inside.

" _Malia!"_ A hand clamped down on her shoulder.

She went still, nearly stumbling at her abrupt stop. Turning around, she found Sheriff Stilinski in front of her. "Oh. Uh, hey…" There was a strange mixture of comfort and concern stirring around in her stomach. Stiles' dad had always been a source of kindness in her life. But not now, not when she was on edge. "If you're looking for Stiles—"

"Already saw him. He's a little anxious." The Sheriff frowned. "Can't blame him after last week, but…" Clearing his throat, he pivoted to face her better, a hand hinging on his gun belt casually. "Listen, I don't want to put too much pressure on you, but…" He looked around the hall quickly— it was mostly empty at this point, but he still lowered her voice. "You were there, and I'm gonna need a statement."

Malia nodded jerkily. "I know. Stiles mentioned it. Uh, can we do it tomorrow? I can come out to the house or the station, whatever works."

He nodded. "The sooner the better."

"I know. I'd do it today but I've got a lot on my plate." She motioned a thumb over her shoulder. "I'm actually on my way to a test right now. So… tomorrow?"

He nodded, but his gaze searched her face. "You're okay? Stiles said you were pretty shook up after."

"Yeah, I was. But… I'm doing okay. Stiles has been great. He really helped me through it."

Sheriff Stilinski half-smiled. "I'm glad to hear that." Reaching out, he patted her arm reassuringly. "We'll talk tomorrow. If anything comes up in the mean time, you let me know."

"I will."

"Okay. Get to class, all right?"

"Kay." As he walked away, Malia let out an unsteady sigh, sent her gaze to the ceiling, and shook her head. Turning around, she stepped forward, eager to get to class and put this already tense morning behind her. Only, she hadn't made it a full step before she knocked into something. More aptly, _someone_.

Blinking wide eyes, she found herself face to face with—

" _Scott!"_ Her voice sounded loud and strangled to her ears; she hoped he didn't notice.

He stared back at her, his hands wrapped loosely around her arms. "H-Hey."

"Hi."

A beat passed, and then another.

Clearing his throat, he glanced away. "Math class, right?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Chem test?"

He nodded.

"Okay, well… Good luck."

"You, too." His gaze found hers again, his brow furrowed. "Malia, I—"

" _Miss Tate?_ "

She startled and looked past Scott's shoulder to see Mr. Matthews standing at the open door to her math class. Wincing, she said, "I have to go. I have a test."

"Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry." Scott's hands abruptly dropped from her arms, fingers twisting and twitching, and he stepped to the side, out of her way.

Malia waved to her teacher, who rolled his eyes and walked back into the classroom. To Scott, she said, "Stick close to Stiles, okay?"

Scott nodded, staring hard at the floor. "Sure. Yeah."

Lingering a moment longer, she chewed her lip. It felt wrong, being this close to him, knowing he had to be struggling just as much, if not more, than her, and she wasn't doing anything to help. A week ago, she would've been first in line to get him through the day. She would've reached out to squeeze his hand or hugged him or _something_. But now, she couldn't. _She shouldn't_. She needed to start erecting some kind of wall or she was going to end up getting hurt in the end. More than she already was. Backing up, she sighed. "I'll see you later."

He didn't answer and, eventually, she turned around and walked away.

She was nearly to the door when she heard a quiet, whispered, _"Lia…"_

A few days ago, she would've stopped.

Not today.

Malia stepped inside her math class and immediately made her way to her seat, ignoring the stink eye that Matthews was sending her from his desk. As he began explaining the mechanics of the test, Malia sunk down into her chair. His voice became a distant, cavernous buzz in her ears, blocked out by the too-loud sound of her heartbeat hammering inside her chest. As the test was passed back along the aisle, she took the stack mechanically, dropped one on her desk and passed the others over her shoulder. Scribbling her name on the front, she opened the first page and stared at white paper and black numbers. She hated math, but she could at least appreciate that there was only ever one right answer to the question. Life was never so simple.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia walked out of her test dragging her feet. It wasn't that she thought she failed. She was pretty sure she'd at _least_ passed, but her hearing had been wonky all throughout. She was pretty sure it was based partly on how anxious she was feeling over the test. She would go from stilted silence with the odd cough or chair squeak to being able to hear Mr. Matthews's stomach grumbling and every saliva-filled _squish_ of someone chewing gum a classroom over. Eventually, she'd been able to block it out and focus on her test. But then her brain turned traitor and wouldn't stop replaying the sound of Scott's voice saying her name while she walked away.

She was still scratching her head over the last question when the bell rang. Circling 'B,' she grabbed up her test and her books and walked to the front. She left her paper on top of the stack, the last to be handed in, and the ventured into the busy halls.

"Hey!"

Malia turned on her heel and half-smiled when Allison approached. "Hey. How was your chem test?"

" _Brutal_." She rolled her eyes. "I think I passed but... I probably could've studied more this weekend."

"Maybe Harris will factor trauma into your score."

Snorting, Allison tilted her head. "I seriously doubt that."

Knowing how much of a dick Harris was... "Yeah, me too."

"What about you?" Allison elbowed her lightly. "How'd you do on your math test?"

"Eh. All right. Not as good as I should have." Malia shook her head. "I was distracted. Today's just been weird. I don't know."

"Yeah?" Allison chewed her lip. "You know, Scott ran out of class during the test... He seemed pretty upset. Stiles chased after him, too."

Malia paused and her heart _thumped_. "Really?"

"Yeah. They didn't come back either."

Sighing, Malia reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. There were a barrage of texts from Stiles _— 'scott's freaking OUT!'_

 _—'i found his bag in the hallway...'_

 _—'he was in the locker room. he was having a panic attack. tricked his brain into thinking it was his asthma and it WORKED! tell you about it later!'_

 _—'just realized you were in your math test. ignore this! everything's good'_

 _—'GREEN i mean. everything's green. we'll talk at lunch!'_

Malia thumbed in a response— ' _where are you now?_ '

Stiles was quick to answer. —' _headed to next class. he's doing better but he says he can feel everybody's emotions..._ '

—' _he said something and I'm kinda freaking out_ '

Malia frowned. —' _what?_ '

She stared at the bubbles that showed Stiles was typing, until finally— ' _he said I had to lock him up tonight. because if I don't..._ '

—' _he thinks he might kill someone_.'

The bell rang shrilly, and Malia looked up to see Allison staring at her worriedly. "Are you okay? You just went completely pale."

Malia swallowed tightly. "Yeah. Just... Thinking about all the ways I might've failed that test." Shaking her head, she reached out and hooked her arm around Allison's. "Come on. We're already late for class."

Smiling, Allison bumped her shoulder against Malia's. "You didn't fail. I'm sure you did great."

"'Great' might be a stretch. I'd settle for a pass."

Allison's gaze darted to the phone still clutched in Malia's hand. "Is he okay?"

Sighing, Malia shrugged. "It's just a bad day. It'll pass." Her voice sounded sure and dismissive, but her stomach was twisting up in knots.

"Did you talk to him yet... about the party?"

Malia half-smiled to hide a grimace. "Yeah, about that... I think maybe the smart thing to do here is just... let it go. He made it pretty clear that he wasn't thinking straight and whatever happened was a giant mistake, so..."

" _Oh_." Allison's brow furrowed. "Are you sure he—?"

"I'm sure," Malia cut her off.

Allison chewed her lip and then nodded slowly. "Okay. Whatever you want."

Malia leaned into her. "I want to get through this day and then go home and nap until tomorrow."

Snorting, Allison rolled her eyes. "I guess that's a goal."

"Sleep always is."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia liked to think she was pretty good at self-control and regulating her feelings. Others might argue that she didn't regulate so much as suppress her feelings. But that was a debate for another day. So far, Malia was doing okay. Her hearing was still wonky and her stomach was a constant pit of dread, but she was surviving. At break, she opened her locker to find Danny had left her a bag of Skittles. He also left her with the mystery of how the hell he got into her locker.

A sudden bang against the series of lockers next to her had her heart leaping into her throat until she turned to find Stiles standing a foot away from her, hands gripping the straps of his backpack. His eyes were wide and his eyebrows hiked in the universal sign of ' _what the hell?!'_ "Did you get my texts?"

"All forty-three of them." Malia pulled out her bag of Skittles and stuck the top between her teeth as she put her books away.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Then you got the big one. The important one. The one where Scott— _our_ Scotty— _your_ Scott—basically said he was feeling _murdery_."

Closing her locker, she then used her teeth to open the edge of her Skittles bag and poured a few into the palm of her hand. "No, I got the one where he pre-emptively asked you to chain him up so he _doesn't_ hurt anybody. That's a good thing. Maybe he's getting in tune with the wolf." Malia popped the Skittles into her mouth and chewed. "At least he's asking for help."

"Yeah, to not _kill_ people." Stiles stared at her searchingly. 'This is big. This is _huge_. I mean, you didn't see him. He just up and left the class and ran off to the locker room. He was standing in the shower, couldn't breathe... It wasn't good. He said you guys ran into each other right before class... What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I told him to stick close to you, that's it."

Stiles frowned.

"Look, school gets out at three. That's plenty of time before it gets dark. You have the chains, right?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah. But... I don't know. This feels weird. Wrong somehow."

"It'll feel a lot worse if he actually hurts someone."

"I get that. I just mean..." Sighing, he looked around quickly. "I mean, he's panicking a lot. He thinks you hate him."

Malia leaned back against her locker and turned her gaze to the ceiling. "I don't _hate_ him. Obviously. I just... I want some space."

"Because you're both terrifying shifters that could tear someone's throat out or because of some other miscommunication I'm not aware of?"

Malia frowned at him. "Stiles, I love you. You're my best friend. But I'm allowed to have things, personal things, that I don't want to talk about or share or even figure out right now. Today already sucks. I ran into your dad. I maybe, hopefully passed a math test. And I just want to go home."

Stiles stared at her a beat. "All right. Okay. I can wait another day to bug you about whatever is going on." He flared his fingers out from the straps of his bag and started backing away. "Just know that I'll be dealing with him and his anxiety about you for the rest of the day, all while hoping he doesn't wolf out and attack the person nearest to him... Which is _me_ , FYI."

Annoyed and dismissive, she waved. "Good luck with that!"

Rolling his eyes, Stiles turned on his heel to leave, and Malia did too. In the opposite direction.

Up ahead, she saw Boyd walking down the hall, on the fringes of a group of students. His head was down, oversized headphones over his ears. Deciding he probably wanted some time alone, she instead put her focus on trying to find Danny. Or Erica. Whoever might spill the 'theory' beans earlier…

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Headaches shouldn't be possible. If she had accelerated healing, headaches should be a thing of the past, right? _Wrong_. Malia was having the mother of all headaches. So much so that she couldn't focus on anything the teacher was saying. To be honest, she wasn't sure what class she was in. Her hearing was overcome with the low, buzzing hum of every lightbulb overhead. Beyond that was a rattling, rushing noise from the air vents. It all felt like a hammer against her brain. She sat hunched in her chair, rubbing at her temples, trying to control her breathing. She didn't feel like she was on the verge of shifting. Instead, it felt like nausea mixed with waves of heat that left her feeling rung out and deeply uncomfortable.

The smell was the worst part, though. Malia had taken to breathing in through her mouth, but even then she could _taste_ it. A sour, pungent flavor; a mixture of people's feelings. The strongest was desire. Horny teenagers exuding waves of lust at each other. She could choke on it. Instead, she lifted her head and attempted to glare everyone into a peacefully _fear-filled_ state. Maybe if they were all worried about what she might do to them they'd stop thinking about what they could do to each other. But, the sudden brightness of the light against her eyes had her clenching her teeth to trap a whimper. Her eyes had never felt this sensitive before. Then again, every part of her felt sensitive to something. It was driving her nuts.

Enough so that she finally gave in. Malia lurched up from her desk, grabbed her books and hurried to the door. She heard what she thought might be the teacher calling after her, but she needed to get out. _Away_. She needed to drown out all the noise and just _breathe_.

She considered the nurse's office and then scrapped it. She'd spend too much time peppering Malia with questions about what and why and how. All things she couldn't answer. The problem was that every room had someone in it. Everywhere but the locker room. Malia checked a clock and realized she had almost an hour before the bell rang. Breaking out into a jog, she hurried down the halls and snuck her way into the locker room. Thankfully, Coach Finstock would be teaching his Economics class right now, so there was no chance of him being in his office. She shouldered through the doors and abruptly collapsed on a bench, a rush of air leaving her nose. On an inhale, her mouth twisted up.

" _Gross_."

Jockstraps and sweaty jerseys; she should've remembered this room would stink too.

Still, it wasn't as bad as what she'd been smelling before. Chemosignals _sucked_. Maybe they were good for tracking, but they were clearly the enemy when her senses were at a hundred.

Stacking her hands on her forehead, Malia tried to breathe; deep inhale, hold it, exhale slowly. _Over and over_. After a few minutes, she could feel herself calming down. She was still sweaty but her skin didn't feel too tight for her body anymore. She let her hands fall, her arms dangling over either side of the bench, fingers nearly brushing the floor. Staring at the ceiling, she tried to follow the maze of pipes and vents criss-crossing above. She followed each of them with her eyes, trying to see where they began and end. Over time, she became drowsy. Her breathing evened out and her eyes grew heavy. Just as she was starting to feel like maybe she was finding control again, her hearing spiked.

Rushing water. Chairs scraping on floors. Rubber soles. Pencils tapping. _Cough-cough._ Fabric rubbing against fabric. And the smell... It crept toward her, invading her nose, her lungs, filling her mouth and staining her tongue. A wave of heat washed over her and—

 _Thump_.

Malia blinked.

 _Thump, thump, thump..._

One sound, louder than the rest.

 _Thump, thump, thump..._

Rhythmic.

And a cleaner scent, distant, but somehow strong enough to blanket the rest, to mute them from her overloaded senses.

Earth and dew, salt and pine needles.

Calm again. It fell over her like a cool breeze. Her heart slowed, her breathing stabilized, her body stopping rioting.

And then—

 _TAP, tap, tap_...

Malia's brow furrowed. She turned her head to see a Skittle had fallen out of her pocket and bounced across the floor. It was red. Invariably, logic told her eating anything off the floor, let alone the locker room floor, was a terrible idea. The fact that it was the only Skittle she had left and hadn't realized it was in her pocket to begin with fought an earnest battle.

The shrill sound of the bell ended any discourse. It was lunch and she needed to get out of the locker room. So, she did. Ultimately, Skittle-less.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"You look terrible."

Malia pulled her arm from over her face and peeked out to see who was interrupting her attempt at finding some peace. Leaving the locker room was a must, but the temporary relief she'd found there had fled not long after.

Frizzy blonde hair and a semi-amused, semi-concerned face stared back.

"Hey." Malia let her arm fall across her eyes again. "I have a headache."

"Yeah? I don't really have anything for that. My dad's always worried pain meds will mess with my anti-seizure medication so I mostly have to suffer through it." Erica took a seat on the grass. Strangely, she didn't smell strongly of much. Hand soap, shampoo, deodorant, and wax, probably from the lip balm she had in her bag. No perfumes or body sprays. It was nice. Malia wondered if she could focus solely on Erica's muted smell to help block everything else. It was easier outside. The trees and the grass helped mask a lot of things.

"That must suck when you get your period," Malia mumbled. "No pain meds at all?"

"It does. I'm stuck with chocolate and hot water bottles. I used to run sometimes. I guess exercise helps with cramps, even though it's basically the last thing I'd want to do. But I'm not the most athletic person. So, running became walking became watching TV with a heating pad."

Malia snorted. "I get it."

"Really? You're probably the most athletic person I know."

"I also love sugar and would happily eat my weight in it." Tucking her arm behind her head, she blinked against the prickling light attacking her eyes. "I looked around for you at break. Couldn't find you."

"Oh, yeah, I was getting a few books for an essay I have to do..." She bit her lip. "It was weird. Being in the library."

Malia felt her heart dip. "Yeah. I've kind of been avoiding it. Made it a little difficult to get to my English class, actually."

Erica winced. "Have they said anything? A lot of people are talking about it, but nobody's really saying anything about who died."

"I don't think they can. Not until they find a body." She sighed. "Who's running the library?"

"The vice principal was in there today. Took ten minutes to sign out two books." Erica dug around in her bag and came out with a lunch. "Have you eaten?"

"No."

"Are you hungry?"

As if in answer, Malia's stomach grumbled. Pushing herself up, she pressed her back to the tree and pulled her bag into her lap. She'd avoided opening it earlier in case the smell was overwhelming. "Please tell me you didn't bring tuna or something. I might vomit."

"Nope. Just a ham sandwich and some chips. I think I have an orange in here somewhere, too."

"Outside pocket, left side," she said.

Erica flipped her bag around and dug an orange out of the left side pocket. She gave Malia a surprised look.

Malia shrugged. "Shape was hard to miss." Digging out her container of leftover spaghetti, Malia stuck a fork in and spun it around. "So... What's this theory Danny said you have?"

Erica went still.

 _Nervous_. Not quite panic, but she definitely smelled nervous.

Erica's gaze bounced to Malia and then to the grass. "Uh, it's dumb. I fell down a Google rabbit-hole and wound up somewhere crazy. I don't even know why I told Danny about it..."

"What's he think?"

She paused. "I thought he'd laugh it off, but he was kind of open to it…"

"Okay. So, what is it?" Malia hadn't realized how hungry she was until she was eating. She had to curtail the urge to tip the container back and pour the spaghetti right down her throat. Erica was speaking, but Malia was distracted with trying to chew the food she had chipmunked in her cheeks while wiping sauce away with the back of her hand.

"…never really believed in anything supernatural. And I'll wave the trauma flag if you call me crazy for even thinking it. But Google kept bringing up searches for werewolves and the more I thought about it—"

"For what?" Malia looked up abruptly. She swallowed an uncomfortably large amount of unchewed spaghetti, _coughed_ , and then repeated herself, "What came up?"

A pink tint filled Erica's cheeks. "I know. It's stupid! But I mentioned it to Danny and then he was kind of excited. I guess he read these books about supernatural lore and he had an idea that Beacon Hills might be on these things called ley lines... I don't know about that. I tried researching it, but then I just felt like a weirdo. I mean... it's crazy... Right?"

Malia stared at her, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. "How'd you get from mountain lion to werewolf?"

Erica rolled her eyes. "I was looking into big animals at first. Local animals. It's just... At the video store, the thing that attacked us... It didn't seem big to you? Like, bigger than a mountain lion?" She shook her head. "I've seen pictures of the one Allison's dad shot and... It was too small. And yeah, maybe I'm remembering it wrong. I was scared and maybe it seemed bigger than it actually was. But... I don't know. It just doesn't feel right."

"So, you think werewolf fits?"

"No. _Obviously_. It's like I said, Google kept bringing up this weird thing about this French guy and this beast—"

"The Beast of Gévaudan," she muttered.

" _Yeah!_ It was this man-eating wolf or something. So, then I started wondering about wolves— how big they get, if we have any here in Beacon Hills, that kind of thing. And the more I looked into it, the more stuff there was about werewolves. So... I messaged Danny. And he got kind of excited about it. Said there was this long supernatural history, something about trees. Anyway, we got carried away and now I'm here, looking like an idiot, telling you werewolves might exist, which..." She sighed. "I don't want to be _that_ girl, who believes in werewolves."

Malia shook her head slowly. "Something crazy happens, _twice_ , it makes sense to start looking for a reason why."

Erica picked at her sandwich, her brow furrowed. "Is there a reason? I mean, why us? Why the video store? Why the school? I can't wrap my head around it. Derek Hale's family dies in a fire and, what, he goes psycho? Decides to kill off a bunch of kids that almost got mauled by a mountain lion? Or maybe it's coincidence. Maybe we have the worst luck ever and he targets the school for no reason. Chases a bunch of teenagers around, terrorizes them, kills the janitor and the librarian, and then just takes off... I don't know. I really don't. And maybe werewolves are totally far-fetched and the worst reason ever, but... None of it makes sense, so I guess I'm trying to find something that does."

"I get it." When Malia's voice came out strained, she cleared her throat and swallowed tightly. "I mean... the coping part of it anyway. I don't think werewolves is the first place my head goes, but... whatever works."

Erica snorted. "It's just a theory."

"So is Bigfoot." Malia half-smiled. "Go big or go home."

"Ugh, _terrible_. That was cheesy and terrible."

Malia laughed. "What about vampires?"

Erica's brows hiked. "Vampire Bigfoot."

"See..." Malia popped a chip in her mouth. "You're catching on."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia was panicking. But not in an obvious way. At least, she hoped it wasn't obvious. It was almost the end of lunch and Erica had taken off early to get to her next class— something about getting the best seat. Malia, on the other hand, was using up her last ten minutes of freedom to try and find Stiles or Scott or _both_. Just someone she could talk to about the fact that not only did Erica kind of, sort of have an idea of what was going on, but apparently Danny believed in werewolves, or at least had researched the supernatural around Beacon Hills. Which simultaneously made him someone to avoid and someone to talk to. What if he knew more about werewolves? What if he _was_ a werewolf? Wait, no. He probably wouldn't be advertising that to just anyone. And even though he and Erica were clearly becoming friends, he wouldn't just casually talk to her about it... Right? But what if he knew enough to be a threat? What if he recognized the signs in her or Scott? What if—?

 _Oof!_

Malia face-planted against someone's chest. Whoever it was, they stumbled back a step while she stood her ground. Looking up, Malia had to swallow a groan. _Jackson_.

"You know, that face you make every time you see me, it's not flattering."

"For me or you?"

He snorted. " _Cute_."

"Uh-huh." She stepped to the side. "Anyway, I have better places to be."

"Wait!" He turned with her. "Can we talk?"

Malia hesitated. "Like normal humans or with the usual catty barbs? Because I'm not feeling great, so I might be off my game today."

He caught himself mid-eyeroll and attempted a smile. "I just wanted to talk."

"About...?"

His gaze darted around and then landed on her again. "About what happened last week... About Derek Hale..."

Malia crossed her arms. "What about it?"

He scowled. "You know, most trauma victims probably try to support each other."

"Is that what you want? _Support?_ "

"Maybe not with that _judgy_ tone, but... Yeah. Sure." He shrugged. "Whatever."

"It's not really a 'whatever' thing." She searched his face. "It really freaked you out, huh?"

"What, it didn't freak you out? Super Malia, running around making distractions for serial killers." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and readjusted the strap of his bookbag across his chest. "Not all of us are that sacrificial."

"It wasn't about being sacrificial. I was just trying to give you guys a chance."

Jackson stared at her through narrowed eyes. "I don't get you," he admitted. "You hate me. You always have. But somehow, you've saved my life, _twice_."

"Was I supposed to let you die?"

His lips pursed. "Look, I just want to know what happened that night... Everybody's saying it was Derek Hale. But the thing I don't get is that I thought you were friends with him."

Malia's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Yeah. He showed up here a couple weeks ago, asking about you or McCall... He looked like a drugged out _freak_. And then he lures Allison here pretending to be Scott and chases us around the school like a _psycho_. Danny's saying the librarian's dead, McCall and Stilinski said they saw Derek kill the custodian. So... What is it? What's the _truth?_ "

Malia stared up at him, her throat tight. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because strangely, of the three musketeers, you're the one I trust the most... Testicle Right and Left aren't going to tell me anything. But you..." He took a step closer and stared down at her searchingly. With the face he was making and how he was purposely looking out from under a fan of long lashes, she thought he might be going for 'seductive.' It was a little hard to take seriously when the smell of his cologne was making her stomach turn. Well, that and the personality that was Jackson Whittemore. The funny thing was, she would know if he was attracted to her, and she wasn't getting even the faintest whiff of that. It could be the cologne or the body wash or the general smell of sweat that followed any athlete around. But Jackson mostly smelled expensive and suspicious.

"I..." She took a step forward until they were toe to toe and tipped her head back to stare up at him, "...know as much as you do. If you want my honest opinion, it wasn't Derek. I don't know who it was or why they did what they did. But, we survived."

A furrow formed between Jackson's brows. "You know a lot more than what you're saying."

She snorted. "What happened to trusting me?"

He gritted his teeth, his upper lip curling faintly. "Guess I was wrong."

"We all make mistakes." Malia took a step back. "Like I said, I have somewhere else to be." Turning on her heel, she walked away and willed her heart to slow down and her panic to ebb. Great, so not only did she have Erica and Danny to worry about, but it looked like Jackson was getting more suspicious, too. Could this day get any worse?

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Scott stared at the floor as he left the locker room, pulling his jersey into place. He should be happy, he made it through school and now all he had left was lacrosse practice. Except that just became even more complicated. _Co-captain_. A month ago, that would be his dream come true. Or at least half of it, since sharing the title with Jackson wasn't exactly ideal. But now, today, all he could feel was defeat. Even when things were going right, they felt like they were going wrong.

Stiles grinned as he caught up, passing Scott his gear as they walked down the hall, at the tail end of the group. "Are you not freaking out? I'm freaking out!"

"What's the point? It's just a stupid title. And I could practically _smell_ the jealousy in there."

"Wait." Stiles planted a hand on Scott's chest to draw him to a stop. "You _smell_ jealousy?"

"Yeah, it's like I said, the full moon's turned everything up to ten."

Stiles' eyes widened. He tried to play it casually as he asked, "Can you pick up on stuff like, I don't know, desire?"

"What do you mean desire?"

"Like sexual desire?"

Scott's gaze turned flat. "Sexual desire?"

" _Yeah_ , sexual desire. Lust, passion… _arousal_."

Sighing, Scott's gaze turned from Stiles to a familiar figure down the hall. "From Lydia?"

"What? No, in a general, broad sense, can you determine sexual desire?"

Scott pinned him with a knowing look. "From Lydia to you?"

"Fine, yes, from Lydia to me," Stiles admitted through gritted teeth. "Look, I need to know if I have a chance with this girl, okay? I've been obsessing over her since the third _freakin'_ grade."

"Why don't you just ask her?"

"Okay, one of us doesn't get to point fingers and ask that question when they have a giant heart-shaped crush on our mutual best friend." Stiles shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Look, consider this an attempt to save myself from utterly crushing humiliation. All right? So, please, can you just go up and ask her if she likes me?" His shoulders hiked up to his ears and his hands waved dramatically. "See if her heartbeat rises, pheromones come out."

"Fine." Scott turned to walk away.

Stiles stared after him. "Wh— I love you. I love you! You're my best friend in the whole world."

Lydia was standing with Brandi, another sophomore that Scott could safely say he'd never spoken more than three words to. "Hey, Lydia? Can we talk for a second?"

Lydia glanced at Brandi, who took the hint and promptly left. "Of course." Lydia walked down the hall and into an open office, stepping inside and turning around to face him. "Is this about last week? You need someone to talk to?"

Scott closed the door behind him. "Just, uh, needed to ask you something."

Lydia took a seat on the desk and patted the space next to her, inviting him to join her.

He paused at the edge of the desk and stared at the floor. She was leaning toward him, he could smell her perfume wafting off her. It was nice, not too strong, subtle and floral.

"Do you, uh…" He paused, took a breath, and finally met her eyes. "I know you've been hanging out with Malia more lately… I was gonna talk to Allison about it, but…" But, the only time he'd seen Allison, she was with Malia. And as much as Malia said she and Lydia weren't friends, they were a lot closer now than they were a month ago. They even had a sleepover… That had to count for something, right? Malia didn't let just anyone stay at her house. "I was just wondering if she said anything to you… about me…"

"Said anything like…?"

Scott shifted his weight awkwardly. "I mean, after the party at Danny's…"

" _Oh_. You mean about the almost kiss."

Scott's brows hiked. "She said that? I mean, she called it that?"

Lydia twirled her hair around her finger and shrugged. "Something like that, yeah."

"Okay, well… What did she say?"

Lydia's chin raised. "What are you _really_ trying to ask me, Scott?"

"I… I guess I'm wondering if… she likes me."

"Of course she does."

Scott's heartrate jumped—

"As a friend."

—and then plummeted.

"That happens sometimes, you know? People get close and before you know it, you just can't see them any other way." Lydia stared at him searchingly. "Plus, I mean… There's Cole. It's hard to compete with someone like Cole… He's handsome, popular, smart, funny… He's kind of perfect."

Scott's teeth clenched and a muscle along his jaw began to tick. His vision started to darken and a pit of— anger? jealousy? envy? — started to build up in his chest.

"But, you know, Scott, I saw what you did at the ice rink. The way you calmed Malia down. You're a good guy. _Genuinely_. And when we were stuck in the science lab and you wanted to go out and find her… That takes guts." She pushed off the desk and stepped toward him. "Not a lot of people would do something like that."

Scott stared down at her. Heat was flaring up inside him. Climbing his body in waves. His brain felt muddy, his thinking fuzzy. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She reached out and pressed her fingers to his chest, walking them up to the neckline of his practice jersey. "That's the kind of thing most girls would jump at. And if you ask me, Malia should be _grateful_ she has you in her life, willing to do those things, to be there for her like that…"

Scott's mouth went dry and his gaze focused on Lydia. He could feel it— her desire, her lust, her _want_ for him. He could almost taste it. The grip he had on his control was loosening. Thread by thread, he felt himself giving in. She was right there. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to rip her pretty throat out and smear her warm blood over his skin or taste her pouty pink lips. "Would you be grateful?"

"I think you'd be surprised at just…" Her hand climbed his chest. "…how grateful…" She grinned. "…I can be."

Her fingers skimmed through his hair as she arched up and met his mouth. Scott's arms banded around her, his fingers digging into her back as he clutched her close. Each slant of his mouth felt more aggressive than the last. His brain was cloudy with desire. But was it his or hers or both? In that moment, it didn't matter. She was offering and he was taking.

Besides, it was probably better to kiss her than kill her.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After school, Malia was still having no luck finding her friends. She'd texted Stiles a few times, but either he was ignoring her or his phone was dead. As much as she wanted to tell him about Erica and Danny, she wondered if maybe tomorrow was a better time. Scott was probably already freaked out about the full moon, maybe their latest problem could wait one more day. Or maybe she was chickening out because she didn't want to see Scott, that was also a possibility. What she knew for sure was that school was over and the sooner she got home, the sooner she was away from any potential victims. Speaking of…

Ahead, Malia could see Allison standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at a door. A part of Malia wanted to walk away, get home, and put this whole day behind her. Another part wanted to warn her friend that maybe staying in tonight would be a good idea. Then again, Malia doubted Allison's parents would let her far out of their sight if they knew werewolves were running around Beacon Hills. Still, before she could talk herself out of it, she'd walked down the hall in Allison's direction. "Hey!"

Startled, Allison turned to her. Wide-eyed, she attempted— and failed— to smile. " _Hey_... Uh, I was just leaving… this way…" She pointed past Malia's shoulder.

"Really? Because the front door, where your dad is probably parked right now, is the opposite direction." Malia cocked her head, curious. "What's up? You look a little upset."

"Upset? _No_. No, I just... Uh... I really think..."

Worry had a funny smell. Cold ozone, the kind that makes every hair inside your nostrils stick together. "Allison, what's wrong. You're acting..." Her gaze happened to move the right. It wasn't exactly a conscious decision. All she saw at first was red. Then black. Then white. The window of the door was small, but the view was clear enough.

Scott and Lydia, wrapped around each other, a kiss that had them pulling and pushing at each other. Aggressive and passionate.

Malia's heart plummeted into her stomach and then to her feet.

Allison's hand found her arm, but the weight of it was distant, like she was feeling it through three layers of clothing, a vague pressure and nothing else. "Malia... I'm so sorry."

She couldn't tear her eyes away. Lydia's fingers carding through Scott's hair. Her hand gripping his shoulder. And the way Scott pulled her in...

Malia's eyes burned and she turned forward, away from it, staring past Allison's shoulder and down the hall. "I—" Her voice cracked. She swallowed once, twice, a third time. And then, a strangled— "I have to go."

"I'll come with you." A wave of _pity_ flowed off Allison; it made Malia's stomach curdle.

Malia shook her head. "No. I... It's fine. I'll be fine."

Allison's expression screamed _doubt_. "School's over. I don't have my car, but we can walk somewhere... I just have to let my dad know. He'll understand."

"No, really." She licked her lips. "I'm just gonna head home. I haven't felt good all day. I think I'm coming down with something."

Allison chewed her lip. "I can come over. We can hang out, talk, or just watch a movie and not think about it at all. I'm fine with either."

Malia backed away. "Maybe later."

"Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh. I'll text you." Not waiting for another response, Malia turned on her heel and fled. It took everything in her not to break out in an obvious and completely humiliating run. Instead, she walked calmly to the end of the hall and, when she was sure she was out of Allison's sight, _then_ she ran. Down the hall, out the door, across the parking lot, and two blocks over until she reached a bus stop. Stiles had offered to drive her home, but that would mean staying. It would mean waiting for Scott and Stiles to finish lacrosse practice. It would mean sitting in the same jeep, feet away from Scott, knowing he'd just had his mouth on Lydia Martin's.

Malia wanted to laugh. A hysterical, cracked laugh was climbing up her throat. She sat on a bench in front of the bus stop, her hands on her knees, and tried to breathe. She was angry. She was pissed, actually. But more than that, she was hurt. Lydia wasn't her friend. She owed her no loyalty. But barely two days ago she was telling Malia to go for it.

 _'If it's not you, it'll be someone else.'_

Malia hadn't expected it would be Lydia, though.

And Scott… Maybe it was the moon, but still. Of everyone he could kiss, he chose Lydia? Two nights ago, she could almost believe that their near kiss meant something. That it was coming from a place of genuine desire. And when that hope had been dashed, she'd realized she needed space and time, but she could get through it. And in just a few seconds, standing in the wrong place at the wrong time seeing the wrong thing, left her feeling empty. Scott was his own person, he could be with whoever he wanted to be. But could she not have just a little bit of time to adjust? Some time to sort through her feelings and put them aside. Or, more likely, to bury them in a lock box and never speak or thing of them again.

Standing abruptly, she felt her knees shake. She needed to leave, to get somewhere less populated. Her stomach twisted and turned violently. The shift was coming. She could feel it percolating under her skin— _waiting_. For a sign, a trigger, _something_. Leaving the bus stop, Malia cut down an alley. She picked up her pace until she was basically running, nothing but the crunch of gravel underfoot echoing in her ears. She kept moving until she could see trees up ahead— the preserve.

Cutting across the road, she ducked inside. Her breathing was erratic and it wasn't just from running. It was panic. Fear was swamping her and it wasn't letting up. Malia ran as far as she could, with no destination in mind. Just as deep into the woods and as far away from people as she could get. She stumbled to a stop next to a creek and fell to her knees. She dipped her hands into the water, cupped them to make a bowl, and brought it to her face. Her skin felt too hot and the water was like a sudden balm to that. But it wasn't going to last.

She shrugged her bag off and her jacket followed. To be safe, she removed her necklace and shoved it into her bag too. The sun was still out, but she had a feeling her body wasn't going to wait for it. The coyote wanted out. She could feel it pacing inside of her, tearing at her insides, clawing up her throat.

She was far away from the paths, but that didn't mean anything. There could still be people out there. And once she turned, she wasn't sure she'd have any control over what she did.

 _Derek_.

She dug her phone out from her bag and thumbed through it until she reached _Miguel._ Holding it to her ear, she focused on her breathing, a hand pressed hard over her quick-beating heart.

It rang and rang and rang.

 _Damn it_.

Malia hung up and tried again.

But wherever Derek was, whatever he was doing, he didn't answer.

That was the last straw.

Suddenly, it became all too clear that Malia had nobody she could turn to. Nobody to help her through this moment. The majority of her friends had no idea what she was. At least one of them might turn her over to her dad for the slaughter. And the few who did know were out of reach.

Malia felt the tearing sensation start at her chest. She clenched her teeth shut around a scream. Falling forward, her fingers dug into the damp earth. Her teeth elongated, scraping at her lips. Her nails became claws, scoring at the dirt. She rolled her neck as fur sprouted across her face. And her vision went red, then green. Her skin broke open; it was like she was splitting at the seams. Her bones cracked and broke, realigning themselves. She felt like one of those Rubik's Cubes, where everything was twisting and turning until the right pattern emerged.

Eventually, the pain grew to be too much, and Malia's vision went dark.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

 _Betrayal!_

Her Boy with The Green Girl.

No, not hers. Not anymore.

 _The_ Boy.

 _A_ Boy.

She would eat their livers and chew on their eyes. She would pluck every green hair from the girl's head and use it to line the floor of her den.

 _How dare they!_

She fought the Alpha for him, for them, for the pack. She fought and bled and chased for him. And for what?

Stupid wolves.

Mangy, stinky dogs.

They would pay for their disloyalty.

 _Soon._ She loped across the creek and felt cool water soak her paws. _Soon, but not now._

Now, she had a mission.

Taking off at a jog, she moved through the woods silently, gracefully. She darted through bushes and brush, leapt over logs, and climbed a steep hill. She stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the town. Tonight, when the moon was full, the Alpha would come. He would chase and hunt and kill again. But she would find him. She would run him down and defend her territory. She would tear the pelt from his back and use it to keep warm in the winter. She would bathe in his blood and Lia could wear his teeth like a necklace.

Tonight was her night. She would show Lia what she could do. What _they_ could do together.

In the meantime, she would make a home, somewhere safe and quiet and far from the others. The betrayers. The omegas. They would not be allowed in her woods. They would not visit her den.

 _Only pack._

* * *

 **author's note** : _i planned to have this chapter up ages ago, but then i got an ear infection and i was so deeply uncomfortable that writing was just not an option. i've also edited this so many times that my eyes refuse to properly read it anymore and i feel like if i keep doing that, i'll never post it. i'm sure there are still mistakes, so let me know if you spot them and i will certainly fix them._

 _i wanted malia's struggle with the moon to be a little different from scott's. there are times when she feels like she has control and other times where it really caves in on her. i think a lot of what influenced scott's original turmoil was that he and allison had broken up and he was so focused on whether or not he could win her back. i'll be delving more into scott's feelings next chapter, but stiles touches on a big piece when he tells malia that scott thinks she hates him. they're distant right now, which is probably the worst time for it, and that's going to come to a head in the next chapter for sure._

 _i waffled over whether i was going to include the scott/lydia kiss right up until i realized i was threading in moments where lydia was noticing the connection between scott and malia and comparing it to her own relationship with jackson, which is very much on the rocks. it's obvious to people, even those that aren't close to them, that malia and scott care about each other and it's hard to miss how they support one another through everything. and as much as lydia emphasizes the need for her partner to be popular, it's clear she feels she's missing out on something. for lydia, her life feels like it's spiraling and the one person who should be helping her through it is distracted and unsupportive. plus, malia has no trouble pointing out these things in a blunt way that lydia doesn't really appreciate. this all culminates in her taking a chance when it's presented to her. she and malia aren't friends yet, but they're friendly enough that this is definitely still a shitty thing to do. especially considering the recent conversation she had with malia and allison._

 _much of this chapter is really a set up for what happens next chapter, which i'm really excited about, just because it's very emotional and there's an intensity to everything that's going on._

 _again, sorry for the long wait! thank you to everyone who continues to read and comment! i'm still behind on those, but i figured it was better to focus on editing than replying. i will try my best to get back to comments tomorrow!_

 **things to look forward to next chapter** : _scott loses control; stiles freaks out; derek has a plan; the coyote has a mission; and forgiveness doesn't come easy._

 _thanks so much for reading. please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	26. lunatic 4

**word count** : 16,420  
 **fashion** : due to the recent closing of polyvore, i've moved many of my sets to **shoplook** but they don't yet have a collection option. i'd suggest checking out this story on ao3 (sarcastic_fina) for direct links to sets for the time being. **  
episodes** : 1x08 - lunatic

* * *

 **XXVI.**

Danny was hurt. Not a completely unexpected event during lacrosse practice. Stiles was pretty sure most of his own injuries, minor and often self-inflicted as they were, happened during practice. But, it was pretty rare that anyone went after _Danny_ , of all people. Maybe this was Stiles' fault. He should've done something when he realized Scott was getting aggressive. In his defense, getting between a feral werewolf and, well, _anything_ sounded like a terrible idea. Besides, Scott was just enacting a little revenge. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that a few of their teammates weren't exactly _happy_ that Scott had been made co-captain, and they were making sure he knew that. Maybe if Scott was in his right mind, he would've just shrugged the whole thing off. But he wasn't. He was very much in the _wrong_ state of mind. Which resulted in Scott checking the same two players that'd put him on his back and then barreling toward the net, where he slammed his lacrosse stick against Danny's head.

Letting out a hiss of sympathy for the pain he must be going through, Stiles joined the team as they surrounded Danny, sprawled out on the grass, groaning. Thankfully, Danny was wearing a helmet, but Stiles was pretty sure Danny was still seeing cartoon stars.

While Coach Finstock and a paramedic made their way over, Stiles stalked toward Scott, the only one who didn't seem worried. "Dude, what the hell are you doing?"

Panting, Scott said, "What, he's twice the size of me."

"Yeah, but everybody likes Danny." Stiles' brow furrowed. "Now everybody's gonna hate you."

Scott pulled a face and scoffed. "I don't care."

"Okay, well, maybe your wolfy little brain will care that _Malia_ likes Danny. Like, a _lot_." He stared at him searchingly. "You remember Malia, right? Your anchor? Star-crossed lovers and all that jazz?"

A muscle ticked in Scott's jaw and his eyes narrowed. "Whatever," he muttered, before turning on his heel and walking away.

Stiles watched him go, confused and concerned. Shaking his head, he turned to face the crowd surrounding Danny. Maybe it wasn't too bad. Maybe the team wouldn't completely turn on Scott the second they got the chance. Maybe—

Lydia jogged into view and stopped next to Jackson, her beautiful red hair bouncing at her shoulders. Her expression was twisted up in genuine worry. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, it looks like he just has a bloody nose—" Jackson paused, his narrowed gaze scrutinizing Lydia a moment.

"What?"

Jackson nodded at her. "Your lipstick."

Blinking rapidly, Lydia dug a hand into her purse and came out with a compact mirror. She checked her lipstick. "Oh." She laughed as she hastily wiped at where it was visibly smeared. "Oh, wonder how that happened."

"Yeah." Jackson's voice was thick with sarcasm. " _I wonder_."

Realization hit Stiles like a ton of bricks. His heart dropped with a _thud_ — dying a fizzy, screaming death in his stomach acid. Turning away from them, he stared in the direction Scott had gone, his mouth ajar with abject betrayal.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Allison stood in her bedroom, holding a taser gun between two hands, staring down the recently electrified body of her fuzzy-faced childhood best friend. _Mr. Bear_. Kate stood next to her, hooting and hollering with exhilarated pride. Allison watched curls of smoke leave her teddy bear and felt no satisfaction at all. She'd thought learning some form of self-defence would help, but all she could feel now was distracted and disappointed.

"See, if you would have had that the other night, you would have just—" Seeing Allison's expression, Kate cut herself off. "Whoa, wait a minute. I thought you wanted to learn how to do this, sweetie."

"I did. I _do_. I'm sorry, my head's just somewhere else." Allison plopped down on the edge of her bed. "Life was totally different before, you know? Every other place we've lived, it's all been so..."

"Boring?" Kate guessed.

Allison nodded. "Ever since we moved here, it feels like it's just one thing after the other. I mean, the mountain lion killing that video store clerk, that was scary from a distance. And seeing it in the parking lot, that was awful. But then the killer chasing us through the school, that was so much worse. And a part of me thinks that it's worth it. Not— God, not the death, but the fear and the anxiety. Because I've made better friends in the last month than I ever have before." She pulled the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands and balled them into fists. "I don't know. I just really thought things were getting better. I had friends and a life and for the first time in a really long time, it felt like I was building a home. But now..."

"Not every high school experience includes an attempted murder."

Allison snorted. "I guess I thought if I felt stronger, maybe it wouldn't affect me as much. Like, if it happens again, at least I'll know I can protect myself. But then I started thinking... What if this is my new normal?"

"Oh, honey..." Kate rubbed her back. "Look, I can't make promises that something like this won't happen again. That's not how life works. But you asked me to help you feel safe, and this is where I started. I know it seems like just one thing, but this taser could bring down just about anyone. You start here and you build up."

"To _what_ though?" Allison stared at her searchingly. "Does my whole life become me trying to be stronger for something that might never come? Or do I let it go and just hope that it was a one-time, freak thing?"

Kate stared at her a long moment, her mouth pursed. She gently brushed Allison's hair back from her face and wondered, "What do _you_ want?"

Taking a deep breath, Allison let it out on a sigh. "I don't know. I wish I did. I just... Everything's been so intense lately. And we're all talking about it, we're all trying to figure out what it means and why it happened, but... I just have so many questions that I feel like nobody has answers to. Like the whole thing with Derek Hale... _If_ he was the one that attacked us, I don't get why. And there's something that's bugging me that I've wanted to say but I don't know who to say it to. It's just, Scott said he didn't know Derek, but I _saw_ them together. And Derek seemed to know him, so—"

"Whoa, hold on. Wait, back up." Kate turned to her, her expression tense. "Scott knows Derek? Alleged killer Derek? Are they friends?"

"No. Not really." Allison shook her head and shrugged. "I mean, Scott said they weren't."

"How about you tell me everything that Scott said about Derek."

Allison rolled her eyes. "What do you mean everything?"

Kate gripped Allison's arm and pulled her in close. "I mean _everything_."

Completely still, Allison felt a cold chill run down her back. Possibly for the first time ever, her aunt was making her nervous. And she had no idea what that meant.

* * *

...

* * *

Derek was thirteen the first time he turned. In the nine years since, it was easy to forget just how difficult those first few full moons were. The sensitive hearing was always the hardest for him; trying to weed out what he didn't need and exert some semblance of control over his senses. His mother used to tell him it was a gift. That the moon let them hear even better than usual so they could prepare for hunters, avoid potential victims, and find each other easily. It was hard to see the upsides with an ever-present headache. Since then, Derek had learned to control his hearing and used it to his benefit whenever possible.

When Malia called, he had the ringer off. He was laying low after a couple cops noticed him and were _subtly_ trying to tail him. By the time he realized Malia had called, it was too late. He'd assumed she was calling to make sure he chained her down for the night. But when he returned her call, there was no answer. He dropped by her house to be sure. It was empty and her scent was old enough that she hadn't been around since the morning. He tried the school next; it was an obvious option. Maybe she'd become overwhelmed and was hunkered down in a bathroom or a storage closet until everybody left. It was well after-hours, but he would still have to be careful. The last thing he needed was anyone seeing him… _again_.

Luckily, the school was empty. Gouged earth on the lacrosse field said the team had practiced recently. There was the faintest whiff of blood, but not much. More than that, there was aggression. Scott had been there. Possibly the worst time for him to be playing lacrosse was when he was hyped up from the moon. But he was stubborn and the more Derek pushed, the less Scott seemed to bend to him. It was frustrating. He wondered if his parents had similar issues with them.

Derek could remember times when he'd rebelled. Full moons that he wanted to go to school dances or basketball games and his mom shut him down. _'It's not that I don't trust you. But you're still learning. Give yourself room to make mistakes but limit the collateral damage they could cost.'_ He hadn't understood it then. He was quick to think he was grown, that he knew everything, that he could control himself. But the moon was as much their enemy as it was their friend. And even nine years later, he still occasionally struggled with how moody and aggressive it could make him. It didn't help that he was already struggling. With grief and anger and every other feeling that stemmed from them. That made him a threat. He knew that, logically. But he was stubborn too.

Sneaking into the school, Derek took a look around. The collection of smells inside made his nose wrinkle. It was pungent. There were so many, it was difficult to pick apart any individual scents. Often, shifters smelled differently. There was something earthier about their scent. His father smelled like the forest after it rained, fresh and clean and _alive_. Ben smelled like aloe, a medicinal sting to the nose. Adrienne and Gabriella were camp fire smoke— it left a sour taste in Derek's mouth now, but when they'd been alive, it was warm and comforting. Lucas was cold, damp earth, full of potential. Vale was the sun; like air almost too hot to breathe. Cora was the trees; pine needles and moss. Laura and Talia smelled so much alike that sometimes Derek couldn't tell them apart. They were everything, a collection of it all; dew on grass and smoke curling on wood, new earth and fresh rain. When his mother was angry, he swore she smelled like a lightning storm. There was a time when he wouldn't know what that smelled like. To a human, it was just rain, and lightning was just a distant crack across the sky. But Derek knew. And he missed it. Sometimes, a storm would rage across the sky and he would stand in it, soaked to the bone, breathing in as deeply as he could, trying to remember a mother he loved, a mother he failed, a mother who should be angry at him for all the he'd done.

Malia didn't smell like that. There was rage and hurt and fear in her, but she didn't smell like lightning or a storm or fire or earth.

She smelled like citrus; the crack of an orange peel, sweet and sour.

He caught her scent in a distinct place in the hallway. Not because it stood out beyond the rest. But because she'd left a chemosignal that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Heartache had a distinct smell. After Paige died, Lucas told Derek that he smelled like the kind of rain that drowned whole cities. A torrential rain that was sweeping him far out of reach. Sometimes he wished it had. Maybe then he wouldn't have made the mistakes he did later.

Derek left the school and returned to the woods. If Malia was breaking down, she would go somewhere familiar. Not home, she wouldn't want to risk her dad. But if she was going to turn into the coyote, maybe she thought the woods would keep her from hurting people.

He called her phone and wasn't surprised when it rang through to voice mail again. He wasn't expecting her to pick up. Instead, he tried to hear her ringtone. He was expecting something simple and generic. Instead, very distantly, he heard the strains of Bon Iver's 'The Wolves.' Because _of course_ she picked a song with 'wolves' in the title.

' _Someday my pain, someday my pain will mark you. Harness your blame, harness your blame, and walk through with the wild wolves around you...'_

Focusing on which direction it was coming from, he took off at a jog. It took some time and he had to call her multiple times, but eventually... he found it.

Malia wasn't there, but her bag, jacket and shredded clothing were left in a heap next to a creek. Crouching down, he picked up her phone. The front screen showed a number of missed calls from him, Stiles, and Allison. Grabbing up her bag and jacket, he sighed. Well, this wasn't good. She'd obviously shifted and he was going to have to track her down. The sooner he found her, the sooner he could get her somewhere safe.

Looking up through the trees to the sky above, he could see the sun was setting. Which meant he was already running out of time. The more the moon influenced her, the less Malia had control of the coyote. No doubt, with all the chaos of late, the Argents would be out looking for someone to put down. He wasn't sure what to expect of Malia in her coyote state. She'd recognized him last time, even helped him, but there was no telling what the coyote might do if she was faced with hunters. Her instinct might be to attack.

He couldn't risk that.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After leaving lacrosse practice early, Scott made his way home, climbing the porch roof and crawling in through his window to avoid his mom. On a regular day, her presence might comfort him. Today, a warning voice told him it was best to keep his distance. Taking a seat in the armchair tucked in the corner of his room, he focused on his breathing, on filling his lungs to their absolute limits and then letting it all out through his nose in measured exhales. But the longer he sat, the more time that passed, the less present he felt. It started to feel like he was outside of his body, not completely in control of anything.

Scott knew the exact moment that Stiles arrived. He heard the jeep coming up the drive and listened to Stiles' footsteps cross the yard and skip up the steps. Then the metallic sound of the key turning the lock and the gentle whine of hinges. And finally, the smell of Stiles' familiar, cheap cologne hit him, wafting up the stairs.

"Scott?" his mother called out, moving around on the lower floor.

"Stiles," Stiles corrected, his voice light and awkward.

Melissa laughed blandly. " _Key!_ "

"Yeah. I had one made, so—"

"That doesn't surprise me… It scares me, but it doesn't surprise me."

 _Thump_.

"What is that?" Melissa wondered.

"Uh, school project."

Melissa hummed. "Stiles… He's okay, right?"

"Who? Scott?" Stiles' heartrate picked up and his voice went high. "Yeah. Totally."

"He just doesn't talk to me that much anymore, not like he used to."

Melissa's scent, once warm with a hint of antiseptic, was different now. It became thick with... worry, sorrow and regret. If Scott were thinking straight, he might've felt ashamed at his recent behaviour, at whatever he'd done to make his mother feel like they were growing apart. Instead, all he wanted was for her to leave. Her and Stiles both.

"Well, he's had a bit of a rough week," Stiles said.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Okay." Melissa dug around in her purse for her keys. "Be careful tonight."

"You, too."

"Full moon."

Stiles' heartrate picked up, loud enough now that it made Scott flinch. "What!?" Stiles cried.

"There's a full moon tonight," Melissa explained. "You should see how the ER gets. Brings out all the nut jobs."

"Oh." Stiles laughed awkwardly. "Right."

"You know, it's actually where they came up with the word 'lunatic.'" The door opened and clicked shut then. Scott listened to her exiting footsteps and the growl of the car starting outside. The farther away she got, the better.

When he refocused inside, Stiles was climbing the stairs and walking down the hall, until—

Scott's bedroom door swung open and the light turned on, flooding the room. Stiles' gaze landed on him, tucked quiet and unseen in the corner.

" _Oh, my God!_ Dude. You scared the hell out of me. Your mom said you weren't home yet." He tossed the bag down to the floor with a distinct _thunk_.

Scott stared at him. "I came in through the window."

"Okay…" Stiles crouched down in front of the bag. "Uh, well, let's get this set up. I want you to see what I brought."

"I'm fine." Scott knew his voice was vacant and strange. In a way, it felt like he was speaking through a fog. Like there was a disconnect between his brain and his body. "I'm just gonna lock the door and go to bed early tonight."

"You sure about that? 'Cause you've got this kinda—" Stiles made animated motions at his own face. "—serial killer look going on in your eyes, and I'm hoping it's the full moon taking effect, 'cause it's really starting to freak me out."

"I'm fine." Scott's voice changed, layered with something unnatural. "You should go now."

Stiles paused and looked away. "All right, I'll leave."

He was scrawny, thin limbed and weak— Scott couldn't help but think about how easy it would be to tear him apart. Chasing him would be fun and easy. He wouldn't make it far, not unless Scott paced himself, let him think he had a lead. But Stiles was smart. He would make it interesting. A game of sorts.

With a sigh, Stiles sat back and waved his arms around. "Well, look, would you at least look in the bag and see what I brought? You know, maybe you use it, maybe you don't. Sound good?"

There was a pungent odor then; _fear_. Scott liked that smell. He was _owed_ that smell. For all that he did, all that he was; it would be disrespectful if this human wasn't at least a little scared.

Slowly, Scott pushed himself up from the chair, unfurling, looming over Stiles a moment. As he walked forward, Stiles leaned back. Deference to a superior predator. Scott knelt down and reached inside the unzipped bag. His hand folded around a thick chain and his teeth ground together. He lifted it up and felt an offended fury grow inside his chest. "You think I'm gonna let you put these on me? Chain me up like a dog?"

"Actually, no." Stiles lunged at Scott, caught his arm, and yanked him to the side. Metal wrapped around Scott's wrist and, before he knew it, he was handcuffed to the radiator.

As Stiles scrambled away, Scott pulled at his bound wrist, and yelled, "What the hell are you doing?"

Stiles stood a safe distance away. The fear of before was still there, but it was muted. Underneath it was the scent of pride and triumph. "Protecting you from yourself and giving you some payback—"

Scott stared up at him from angry, narrowed eyes.

"—for making out with Lydia."

Scott could have laughed at him, if he weren't so annoyed. He should have smelled Stiles' anger, but it was hidden. Secondary to everything else he'd been feeling. But not now; now, it was on full display. Hadn't he just thought Stiles was smart? It seemed he was braver than Scott gave him credit. Scott wouldn't make the same mistake twice. He wouldn't underestimate Stiles again.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

An hour later, Derek was having trouble figuring out which way Malia was coming or going. Her scent was crossing itself, meaning she was making trips back and forth—

It dawned on him abruptly.

Derek made his way back to her house. Henry's truck wasn't parked outside, but the front door was wide open. There were scratch marks against the wood. She'd let herself inside, leaving tiny foot prints on the carpet as she went. As Derek made his way down the hall, he paused. There were marks on the door to Kylie's room, but the door itself hadn't been opened. Malia's, however, had. The closet had been raided and so had the bed. Clothing was hanging lopsided from hangers, some of it pooled on the floor. She'd come looking for something familiar and taken it with her.

She had also left something behind. Or, more aptly, _someone_.

Shiloh was under the bed, her nose poked out from beneath a blanket, clearly sniffing the air to see if he was friend or foe.

Crouching down, Derek whistled to call the dog out.

Wiggling around, Shiloh popped her head out. She gave him a look over before deciding he was an ally. Crawling out, her tail wagged as she made her way over, leaning against his knee as he pet her.

Derek took it as a positive sign that the coyote hadn't hurt the dog. She clearly recognized that Shiloh was Malia's and not to be hurt, which meant the coyote had some reasoning skills. Which meant she might recognize _him_ when he inevitably tracked her down, too. Recognizing him didn't mean sparing him, however. If she was adamant that she didn't want to turn back, she might decide he made a better enemy than a friend.

Giving Shiloh a few more pats, he stood. Henry could get home at any moment and he needed to get back on Malia's trail. Given what she'd taken and her frequent trips back and forth, he had an idea that she was building a den. She obviously wanted it to be something Malia liked too, so she'd brought some creature comforts along with her. When Laura had first shifted, she said it was all instinct. That the wolf felt like its own distinct personality at first but, over time, she bonded with her wolf until it became a partner and, eventually, just a part of her.

Making his way outside, Derek closed the door behind him to keep Shiloh in and hopefully avoid any suspicion on Henry's part. As Derek was walking down the porch stairs, he heard it.

 _A howl._

Not pained or angry, no. _Taunting._

The coyote was calling out to the Alpha. And she wanted a fight.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Her den was finished. She'd filled it with things Lia would like. Soft things that smelled like her. Things that made her happy. Not things that she needed, but things that Lia would want around her. Humans were sentimental. They liked soft things. Things that smelled like pack, old and new. She almost brought the dog, but it was injured. Its leg was broken. In that way, it was weak. If it were wild, she would kill it and eat it. But Lia liked the dog. So, it would live. In the house, where it was safe.

She tried to wait. The sun had set and the moon had taken its place. But it was too soon. Only when she was sure the Alpha was out there would she make her move. She would lure him out into the open and then she would strike. She would show the alpha its true place on the food chain— under her teeth.

There was another scent in the woods. A familiar one. A wolf...

 _Derek._

Was he looking for her? Did he want to turn her back?

 _No. No. NO!_

She wouldn't let him.

This was _her_ night. Her chance to prove herself to Lia.

He couldn't take that from her!

It was a mixture of anticipation, irritation, and impatience that had her howling, calling to the Alpha wolf, _baiting_ him. She was running out of time. She had to strike before the others came. Before they tried to bring Lia back again.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

After Allison's nerve-wracking conversation with Kate, going to the mall was both an attempt at feeling normal and to find another way to protect herself. As much as the taser had clearly worked against her defenseless teddy bear, it hadn't felt like a good fit. Which was why she had her dad drop her off at the mall, so she could raid the sporting supplies store for something more her style. She'd considered having him or Kate drop her off at Malia's, just to check in, but Malia said she would text if she wanted company. She hadn't yet. A fact that weighed heavy in her stomach.

Walking through the store, hands tucked in the pockets of her jacket, Allison kept going over the intense expression Kate had worn when Allison explained the little Scott had told her about Derek. The same Derek that had given her a ride home after her and Scott's first, and obviously terrible, date. She understood Kate's wariness— Derek was suspect number one when it came to the strange killing spree at the school. But there was still something off about the whole situation…

Pausing near a collection of arrows, Allison smiled. Now, _this_ was more like her. She had a bow at home; the same one she'd used in competitions in the past. But lately, she was feeling like she'd outgrown it. Like maybe she needed something bigger or stronger or just _different_. While she was fiddling around with a scope, she spotted a familiar face across the store and wasn't sure how to feel. Jackson stood in her direct line of sight. She couldn't exactly pretend she hadn't seen him, but she wasn't sure she wanted to invite his company.

Brows hiked, he started toward her. "Hey."

"Hi." Allison put the scope down and fiddled with her sleeves. A few hours ago, she'd seen his girlfriend— _her friend_ — kissing Scott. Obviously, Allison owed no loyalty to Jackson. She wouldn't even really call them friends. They were… moderately friendly. They kind of had to be, considering how much time she spent with Lydia. But, Malia wasn't his biggest fan. All right, that was an understatement. And it was hard to look at Jackson and not see how… cruel and dismissive he could be to other people.

"What are you doing here?" Jackson wondered.

"Uh, I was just thinking I might get back into something I haven't done for a while. What about you?"

"Oh, uh—" He held up a lacrosse helmet. "—for Danny. McCall bashed him pretty hard on the field."

Allison's brows hiked. "Really? That doesn't sound like him…" _Then again_ , what happened with Lydia wasn't like Scott either.

"Yeah." Jackson snorted, his mouth twisted up. "Well, you'd know him better than me, right?"

She frowned. "What?"

"I mean, you two are dating, aren't you? Or is that him and Tate? I can never really tell… They were looking pretty cozy on Saturday, but…" He paused and his gaze darted away. A shadow fell across his expression, and it spoke volumes.

Allison felt a weight fill her stomach. "You know."

He looked back at her, his brow furrowed, and then realization dawned. "So do you." He shook his head. "You don't look too pissed."

"Not for the same reasons you would be." Allison took a deep breath and sighed. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth. I can't apologize for him, or her, but… I know you and Lydia have been together a while and it must hurt, so…"

"Yeah." He smiled emptily. "You could say that."

Allison shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "If it's any consolation, I don't think it meant anything. I mean, I don't know why Scott did it, but… I don't think it'll go anywhere. And Lydia, I think she's just feeling ignored lately. Not that it's your fault, but—"

Jackson's expression grew tense. "Are you sure? Because it kind of sounds like you're saying it is."

Allison winced. "I didn't mean that. I just meant that I know Lydia. And she doesn't talk about it a lot, but I know she's been worried that you were pulling away."

"So, that's an excuse to kiss McCall?"

"No, of course not." Allison took a deep breath. "Look, I'm the wrong person to talk to about this. And like I said, I don't know why it happened. I can only guess."

"Yeah." Jackson pursed his lips. "I wouldn't go into couples counselling any time soon."

Allison felt a flush of embarrassment fill her face. "Duly noted."

As Jackson stalked past her toward the till, Allison turned to watch him leave. She sighed, not entirely sure it was it was in relief to be rid of him or at herself for making things that much worse.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

A rattling noise caught Scott's attention. He looked up and found Stiles standing nearby. He had a bowl with Scott's name written in black tape, and a bottle of water. "I brought you some water." Smirking, smug over his joke, Stiles filled the bowl and placed it on the floor, just in reach.

Scott stared at the bowl, vibrating with anger. He picked it up and threw it at Stiles' retreating back. "I'm gonna kill you!"

Stiles paused in the doorway, his shoulders hunched. A beat passed before he whipped around and glared. "You kissed her, Scott, okay? You kissed Lydia. That's, like, the one girl that I ev— And, you know, the past three hours, I've been thinking, it's probably just the full moon, you know? He doesn't even know what he's doing, and tomorrow, he'll be totally back to normal. He probably won't even remember what a complete dumbass he's been. A son of a bitch, a freaking unbelievable piece of crap friend!"

Scott looked up at him slowly, a cruel smile pulling up the corner of his mouth. "She kissed me."

Stiles stared down at him. "What?"

"I didn't kiss her. She kissed me."

Stiles' teeth snapped shut and he shook his head. Turning on his heel, he walked out the door and around the corner, falling back against the wall.

Scott stared at the doorway where he could see a sliver of Stiles' sleeve peeking out. There was something inside him, something hard and edged with cruelty, that just wanted to lash out, to hurt the person keeping him captive. And if he couldn't do it physically— if he couldn't tear him limb from limb— then he would do it in other ways. The only way he had at the moment. The sweet scent of Stiles turmoil, his hurt and his betrayal, smelled sweet on the air.

With every word, that pain ratcheted up, and Scott felt some tiny semblance of satisfaction, even as he pulled and tugged at his bound wrist to no avail. "She would have done a lot more, too," he called out. "You should have seen the way she had her hands all over me. She would have done anything I wanted."

Stiles slid down to sit on the floor.

Scott's voice echoed as he shouted, " _Anything!"_

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Stupid," Allison muttered.

Walking out of the sporting goods store, she stared at her phone, the battery dead and the screen blank. Just as she turned around, hoping she might be able to use the phone inside, she watched one of the workers flip the 'Open' sign to 'Closed' and turn the lock on the door. _Come on_ … Her dad was going to kill her if she tried to walk home, but that was pretty much her only option at this point.

The sound of muted music suddenly caught her attention and she turned around to see a sleek car pull up in front of her. Panic swelled her chest and she took a step back from the curb. The music cut out and the window lowered. Allison felt her heart hammering in her chest. And then—

Cole leaned into view. "Hey! Everything okay?"

"Oh, uh, y-yeah," she stuttered. Relief and embarrassment flooded her. "Totally fine."

He stared at her a moment. "Are you sure?"

Allison chewed her lip. She glanced at her dead phone and then to the mostly empty parking lot. "Actually… Would you be able to give me a ride home?"

Cole half-smiled. "Jump in."

Circling the front of the car, Allison pulled open the passenger door and hopped inside. "Thanks for this. I was supposed to call my dad, but my phone died. I didn't realize how long I'd be here."

"It's fine. It's good timing. I just finished work." He pointed ahead. "I have no idea where I'm going though."

"Oh. _Duh_." She laughed at herself before rattling off her address.

As the car pulled forward and out of the parking lot, she sunk back into her seat and stared out the window. The only real time she'd spent with Cole was during that weird group date at the bowling alley. She'd seen him in passing and heard Malia say only nice things about him, but they'd never really attempted to talk to each other outside of that.

As the same time, they said, "So, where—" and "Are you—"

Laughing, they shook their heads. "You first," he offered.

"Oh, I was just going to ask where you worked."

Cole winced. "Don't laugh, but I have a part-time job at a fabric store. It was the only place hiring at the time and… I'm a hit with the older ladies."

Allison giggled. "Seriously?"

"Completely. It could be worse, but it's not something I advertise either. It pays okay and sometimes a customer will make me a shirt or something. Last Christmas, I got a whole suit. Fits pretty good, too."

She grinned. "Perks of the job."

"Exactly."

She chewed on the edge of her thumbnail. "Um, what were you going to say?"

"I can't remember. Probably something boring and polite." Cole shrugged. "We don't really know each other and I think the only common friend we have is Malia…"

She nodded. "We both know Jackson."

"I wouldn't call Jackson a friend, exactly. Danny, sure. But Jackson's more of a friendly rival."

"Makes sense." Allison shifted around in her seat. "So, you and Malia, you're friends now? I guess? She said you were working on that, anyway."

"Yeah." Cole half-smiled. "As much as we can when we don't really hang out." He paused. "Actually, I think I might've screwed up last Saturday…"

"Really? How?"

"I just… I said something to Scott that I realized later might not've sounded the way I meant it to." He sighed. "I said we were working things out and I think Scott thought maybe I meant as a couple, when I just meant we were trying to be friends now. I guess I figured she'd already explained everything to him. But he got really quiet and took off… I don't know him too well, so I thought maybe I'd try to talk to him again at school, try to explain things. But, I'm not sure he likes me, so…"

Allison nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "I get it. Scott and Malia are… _complicated_."

"Yeah." Cole snorted. "I've picked up on that."

She took a deep breath and then turned to face him better. "Actually… Do you think you could drive me out to her place? She's kind of having an awful day and… I just want to check in on her. I know it's out of the way and you're already doing me a favor, but—"

"It's fine." Cole nodded. "I don't mind."

"Are you sure?" Her brow furrowed. "I don't want to put you out."

"Allison…" He grinned and, for a moment, Allison could totally see why Malia made out with him so soon after meeting him. There was just something genuine and warm about Cole. "I'm offering. Okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"Great." Slowing the car down, he made a U-turn and then grabbed his iPod up from where it was tucked in the cup holder. He handed it to her and said, "You get to play DJ for the ride."

Smiling, Allison sat back and scrolled through his music list. "Britney Spears?"

"Toxic is a _classic_."

"All right." Allison pushed 'play' and grinned.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Scott's wrist was a bruised and blotchy reddish-purple, blood leaking out of open sores. He wouldn't stop pulling and tugging at his arm. The logical part of his brain urged him to stop, but he couldn't. He felt stuck, caged, like the walls were closing in around him. But the metal cuff wouldn't give and the radiator wouldn't be moved. He groaned, kicking his legs back and forth, and turned an anguished look on the open doorway. He knew Stiles was out there. He could smell and hear him— his racing heart and the panicked sweat of indecision.

"Stiles, please let me out…" He was panting— every breath felt more difficult. His mouth was dry, tongue stuck to the roof, and every swallow felt like sandpaper. "It's the full moon, I swear. You know I wouldn't do any of this on purpose. Stiles, you know I love Malia. Lydia was… I— I don't know. It was this weird impulse. It was the moon, the wolf, _not_ me."

Scott crouched down, his stomach churning and his skin stretched too tight. He turned a glare on the door and ground his teeth together, see-sawing between desperation and rage. "Please, Stiles, let me out. It's starting to hurt. It's not like the first time. It's the full moon. It's Malia avoiding me. I know— I know she hates me. I know she can't stand to be around me. I know I screwed this up. With you and with her. And it's killing me. I feel completely hopeless. Just, please, let me out."

It was quiet and distant, but Scott could hear Stiles' muttered, "I can't."

Two simple words, but they made him want to wring Stiles' skinny little neck.

The clouds parted outside the window, however, and Scott's attention turned upward. He watched helplessly as the glow of the moon crawled through his window and across his leg. He struggled to get away from it, yanking at his arm. "No, no, no!" An intense wave of pain flooded his body. He threw his head back, letting out an agonized yell as his teeth elongated and his eyes glowed an eerie yellow.

The more he struggled, the more it hurt.

All he wanted was just a moment of relief. A moment to breathe. A part of him was ready to chew his own arm off to get it. He needed _out_. He needed to be free. He needed—

The moon was so bright. It felt warm against his face. Beckoning. Calling. _Demanding_.

His vision turned blood-red.

Outside, he heard a howl.

Scott cocked his head and bared his teeth.

Looking down, he stared at his bloody wrist and the metal that kept him confined. He pulled, but it would not give. And then, he got an idea. Taking a deep breath, Scott reached down and dislocated his thumb. It hurt like hell, but yelling wasn't anything new at this point, so Stiles didn't seem to notice. Then, he used the blood to make it easier for the cuff to slide against his skin and, with a little effort— he was free!

Without giving it much thought, Scott left his bedroom, the handcuffs, and Stiles behind. He leapt from the window and landed in a crouch. He lurched toward the woods with a mission in mind.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Finding Scott was a matter of strategy. While Derek was fairly sure he could track Malia, turning her back was the real issue. The only one he knew could do that was Scott. Even if he had an idea that Scott was the cause of her heartbreak earlier, Scott still connected to Malia on a level Derek couldn't.

He went to Scott's house, figuring that he and Stiles were trying to ride the moon out somewhere familiar. When he arrived, it was clear they had been there recently. It was also clear they weren't there any longer. Stiles' jeep had taken off abruptly, shown by the deep divots the tires had left behind in the dirt. And Scott... His chemosignals were leaving behind signs of anger and aggression. Which meant that not only did Derek have a werecoyote taunting an alpha wolf, he also had a beta wolf looking to cause some havoc.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Derek paced.

Malia was in the woods. To some degree, she was safer. Maybe the Alpha never showed, or maybe it didn't answer her call, considering the chunk she'd taken out of it last time… In any case, she was farther away from people, which meant she also couldn't hurt them. On the other hand, Scott was looking for blood and much closer to town. He was also the key to getting Malia under control.

Gritting his teeth, Derek focused in on Scott's scent. He would find him, knock some sense into him, and, together, they would find Malia before she got herself into a fight he wasn't sure she could win.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

It wasn't long before Scott found himself standing beside Malia's house. The lights were out, but she'd been there. He could smell her scent, distant but familiar. He circled around, eager to go inside. Her scent would be stronger in her bedroom. On her pillows and her blanket. In the same bed he'd laid next to her in. The warmth of body soaking into his; her hands gripping his, fingers woven together; her heartbeat loud in his ears…

A flood of _calm_ started to fill Scott up from his toes until—

 _Headlights_.

They flashed across the driveway and then climbed the front of the house before cutting out.

Scott edged toward the corner and peeked around. He peered out through the dark until he saw him— _Cole_.

A growl crawled up from Scott's belly and rattled his throat. His hand curled around the corner of the house, claws dug into the wood. His lip curled in a snarl as he stared at Cole through the porch railings, completely at ease behind the wheel, head tipped back as he laughed.

Scott's mind flashed back to Saturday, to the party, to Malia and Cole, laughing and dancing. An unearthly rage swallowed him up. Before he knew it, he'd crossed the driveway at a lumbering run and leapt on top of Cole's flashy car. He could hear heartbeats ratcheting up in fear and smell the stinging scent of anxiety. Scott reared his arm back, ready to tear through the roof of the car and, hopefully, right through Cole's neck. But before he could strike, something slammed into his body and dragged him off the roof.

He landed on his back with a _thud_. Before he could get his bearings, he was picked up and thrown through the air. He was lucky he didn't hit any trees on the way down, but the ground was still unforgiving. As he rolled to a stop, his back lit up with pain from landing on jagged rocks and debris. He pushed himself up onto his feet, crouched down and bared his teeth. His gaze searched for his attacker— was it the Alpha? Malia? A hunter?

Derek stepped into view, looking much more _wolfish_ than usual. He stalked toward Scott with purpose and snapped his teeth, ready for a fight.

Scott pushed off the ground and leapt at him, his arms outstretched, claws eager.

Derek caught him by the wrist, yanked him forward, and ducked around to grab him from behind. His arm banded over Scott's chest while he held his bent arm behind his back. " _Scott!_ "

Struggling to get free, Scott pulled himself forward. Derek let go and Scott stumbled ahead, falling against a tree. He used it to push off of and lurched for Derek again. He lunged at him, only to have Derek crouch low enough that Scott went right over his head and was forced to roll across the ground. As he got back up, Derek turned around to face him once more.

Scott attacked, swinging wildly and missing each time. Frustration built up inside, pushing him to attack faster, to be more brutal, to _kill, kill, KILL_.

Derek kicked at him, sending him to the ground again.

Scott hammered the forest floor with his fists before he pushed up and tried again.

This time, when Scott swung, Derek grabbed his wrist in mid-air before reaching down, grabbing Scott's belt, and lifting him up over his head. He body-slammed Scott to the ground and then gripped the front of Scott's jacket, pinning him down as he leaned forward and _roared_ into his face.

The red hue of Scott's gaze disappeared. The rage and anger of before vanished, leaving only panic in its wake. Scott scrambled away, coming to a stop when his back reached a tree. He stared up at Derek from scared, confused eyes.

Standing, Derek panted, but as he walked forward, any sign that he was a werewolf melted away, and he was left looking human once more. It was the kind of self-control Scott could only envy.

Scott raised his hands and stared at the jagged, yellow claws tipping his fingers. He looked away, ashamed, and wondered, "What's happening to me?"

"Exactly what the Alpha wants to happen."

"What the hell does that mean?" Scott snarled defiantly.

Derek rolled his eyes. "You almost killed that kid. Not to mention Argent's daughter."

"Allison?" Scott's brow furrowed. "She was there?"

"You didn't see her?"

"I… I remember Cole. I saw him and it was like… all I wanted to do was kill him. I couldn't think straight. I just knew that I didn't want him here. I didn't want him near Malia."

"You were jealous," Derek said flatly.

"No. That's not it. I was…" Scott wasn't sure what he was. But jealous didn't seem to cut it. "Look, all day I've been struggling with this, doing things I wouldn't usually do. I hate it."

"That's because you're still learning."

"Learning _what?_ How to destroy relationships? Friendships? How to hurt the people that matter to me the most?" Scott shook his head and fell back against the tree. "I don't want this!"

"Too bad."

Scott looked up and scowled at Derek. "That's it? That's your pep talk?"

"I'm not giving you a pep talk." Derek crossed his arms and stared him down. "Look, Scott, you're a good person. Under all the whining."

"I'm not whining," he muttered.

"You are. If you weren't, you'd be doing something."

"Something like what?" Scott shrugged his shoulders high. "A few minutes ago, all I wanted to do was rip your head off. I still kind of want to and I'm not even sure that's the moon talking."

"You're probably not the only one that feels that way." Derek turned a thoughtful look out to the woods. "Malia turned. She's running around out there and we need to find her."

Scott's stomach bottomed out. "What?"

"She made a den and I was tracking her, but then she called out to the Alpha."

"She _what?_ " Scott's eyes widened as he hurried to push himself up, even as his knees wobbled beneath him. "When? How long ago?"

"Too long." Derek grimaced. "We need to find her. She's strong, but she's young. She's new to this. The coyote will be eager to prove herself, to show Malia what she can do. But it's going to take a lot more than one shifter to take the Alpha out. Which means we have to find her and either save her or stop her from doing something crazy."

Scott nodded. "How do we do that?"

Derek took a deep breath. "Pretend I'm not here. How would you find Malia on your own?"

Scott frowned and gave it some thought. "I guess… I'd follow her scent." He nodded to himself. "Yeah, when me and Stiles were looking for her, I just followed the wildflowers, it took us a while, but we found her."

"Then we do that."

"What do we do when we find her?"

"You convince her to turn back."

" _Me?_ " Scott's voice came out an unsure squeak. "But she hates me right now."

"She doesn't hate you." Clearly exasperated, Derek turned on his heel and walked deeper into the woods, leaving Scott with only one option— _follow him_.

"She does!" Scott hurried to chase after him. "I messed up on Saturday and now she can barely look at me."

"Well, you're going to have to get over that, because she needs you." Derek marched ahead, certain of the direction he was going. Maybe he was familiar with her scent too. The idea left a leaden feeling in Scott's chest.

"Why can't _you_ turn her back?"

Derek sighed. "You're the only one who's been successful so far. You calm her down."

"Stiles helped. And… she hates me right now." Scott's mouth twisted up. "She'll run as soon as she sees me."

"Then we chase her. She has a life she needs to get back to. She won't want to be stuck as the coyote forever." Derek climbed over a log and looked back at him. "Bury the guilt and deal with it later. Right now, we have bigger things to deal with."

Scott inhaled deeply and let it out on a weighty sigh. "What if I can't do it?"

Derek paused his steps and turned around. "Scott… Is Malia your best friend?"

"Yes."

"Do you love her?"

His heart thumped. " _Yes_."

"Then you'll do it. Because there's no other option here." Derek's brows arched. "She's out there right now, on a mission to kill an Alpha that won't hesitate to put her down. Either we bring her back, or we bury her."

Scott's mouth snapped shut, his teeth clacking together.

The idea that Malia might be out there, hurt or dying, left an emptiness inside of Scott he had never felt before. A cold dawning that the last time they spoke was in the hallway with so little space between their bodies and a gulf of distance separating them far beyond that. The last thing he'd said was her name— a plea, a hope, unanswered.

She deserved better. Not just from him, but in general. Her life was only just beginning. She was making new friends and mending her relationship with her dad. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

"So, which one is it? Because I don't have a shovel."

Scott blinked back into the present and frowned. "I'll bring her back." He shook his head. "Letting her die was never an option."

Derek stared at him a beat. "Good." He turned around. "Let's go."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

The Alpha was coming.

She could hear the sound of his too-large body crashing through the woods, trees and foliage crushed beneath his paws. _RunRunRun._ He was chasing her, following the scent she was leaving behind. She was faster. Leaner and quicker. She moved with an agility he would never know. But she paced herself, luring him closer, letting him think he was close to running her down.

 _Stupid wolf._

She could smell his arrogance, his ego, his pride.

She ran into a clearing and slowed to a stop. Turning on her heel, she lowered her head and waited.

He broke through the trees, ground trembling all around him, and stood as tall as he could. His hulking body bathed in the moonlight, arms out, claws ready to gouge and tear and _KILLKILLKILL_.

She snapped her teeth and growled at him, showing him no ounce of fear.

The Alpha charged.

She let him get close and then darted to the left. He was too big, too lumbering, to stop himself immediately. He stumbled as she circled around him. She bit at his ankles, teeth scraping against leathery skin. He threw his head back and let out a pain growl. She leapt away, bouncing back on her hind legs, jumping and circling with anticipation. Her heart was racing, fluttering against her ribs, eager to play and fight and _win_.

Turning around, he ran for her again. He swiped at her with his long arms, lethal claws searching for soft flesh.

She ducked and dodged him, arching her legs back and catching his forearm with her claws. She pushed off him and landed in the dirt once more. She danced on her tiptoes, her chest aflame with pride. He thought she'd be easy to kill. Small and unskilled. But she would show him. She would show her pack and the wolf, she would show Lia, that she was no easy target. She would—

Something hit her hard in the side and she went flying through the air. She hit the ground roughly and rolled to a stop. She lost her breath for a moment, her body seizing up as it flooded with pain. A stump lay a few feet away. He must have thrown it at her.

Her vision swam for a moment and she felt her— _Lia_ — clawing at her from the inside. _'Run! Get away from him! Get up!_ '

She shook her head, her ears pressed back. The Alpha was crouching down, sniffing at the air. Could he smell her pain? Her wounded pride? The strike of fear that had hit her without warning?

She turned herself over, pawing at the ground to get her legs under her, and pushed up. Her legs wobbled and her stomach churned. _Careful_. She watched him, still now, _calculated_ , his red-eyes focused on her, searching for weakness. She tilted her chin down and stared back defiantly.

He ran forward, gouging the earth with his claws, and leapt through the air. She ran too— _forward_. She ducked under him and swung back around. As he landed, she leapt onto his back. She lunged for the back of his neck and bit down. He howled in pain, his arms wind-milling at his sides. She dug her claws in to hold herself steady. He tried to reach for her, but she twisted and turned so he couldn't quite grab her. She bit down harder and felt skin and sinew tear under her teeth. Blood filled her mouth, poured down her chin, and wet her chest like a blaze of honor.

She would win. She would chew right through his neck if she had to. She would hang his head from a tree to warn the other wolves, to keep them at bay. No Alpha would walk her land again. He would stand as proof that this was her home, her territory.

Suddenly, the world was a blur around her. She felt air _whoosh_ at her back, and then—

 _PAIN_

He slammed his back against a tree and, with it, _her_. Over and over, until finally, she let go. She fell to the ground in a heap, out of breath and in pain.

 _Get up._

 _GET UP!_

But she couldn't. It hurt too much. Her lungs stung with every laboured inhale.

Her paws twitched as she struggled to move, to turn over, to get her feet under her.

 _'He's coming,'_ Lia told her. ' _Get up and find cover. Run away, damn it!_ '

No.

 _Only cowards run_.

She could feel Lia pacing angrily. ' _Survivor's run. Do you want to run, or do you want to die? How much is your pride worth?'_

It wasn't that simple. She had to prove herself. This was her chance. This was—

The Alpha leaned over her, his teeth bared, saliva dripping. He picked her up and threw her.

She could do nothing but fly limp through the air and land gracelessly, rolling across hard and uneven ground. Wheezing, she stared up at the moonlit sky, _mocking_ her for her hubris.

The Alpha stepped into view once more, _ripe_ with the stench of his triumph. Glorying in his superiority.

She sneered up at him, drawing her lips back from her teeth, even as they trembled, as every muscle in her body _screamed_ with exhaustion.

The Alpha raised an arm above his head, his claws lethally sharp.

And she stared into those red eyes, unwilling to die fearfully. He was the invader. The interloper. The colonizer. This was her home. _HERS_.

Just as he was about to bring his arm down— _voices_.

A collection of them. And not only that, but sirens too. The static of a radio— _'Body has been located. Searching the area for any other victims. Over.'_ She could even see flashlights bouncing across the trees.

The Alpha spooked. He took one last threatening look at her and then leapt away, lurching for the trees.

She breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived.

Humans were close. They may have been her salvation momentarily, but they had guns too. They might shoot an injured coyote just to save themselves any hassle.

She needed to return to her den; to safety and familiarity. Where she could gather her strength and plan.

 _Plan, plan, plan._

She would be better next time. Smarter and faster. She would not let her ego get in the way. She would kill the Alpha if it was the last thing she did.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"So…" Scott kicked a stray stick out of his way. "You've been tracking her for a while, right?"

Derek nodded.

"Then you know her scent. Which means you only found me because you think I can help turn her back."

"What's your point?"

Scott shrugged. "I don't know. I guess… I thought you guys were pretty close. She trusts you…" He paused. "Malia doesn't trust easily."

"Maybe I can, maybe I can't. At least with you, we know it's worked before." Derek ducked under a low-hanging branch. "You said you followed the wildflowers?"

"Yeah." Scott's brow furrowed. "That's what she smells like."

Derek's steps stuttered. It was so slight that Scott almost missed it.

 _Almost_.

"What?"

Derek glanced at him. "What?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "Don't play dumb. Not now. I'm exhausted and worried and just _once_ can you be honest? _Please?_ "

Derek's mouth pursed before he said, "She doesn't smell like flowers to me."

Scott's gaze skittered away. "Is that normal?"

Derek seemed to pick up his pace, climbing a hill and trekking deeper into the dense woods.

Scott hurried after him, unwilling to be ignored. " _Is it?_ "

Derek shook his head. "Most shifters smell the same to each other."

"Most? So, some don't."

Derek shrugged.

Irritated, Scott wondered, "Well, what does she smell like to you?"

"Citrusy."

"Citrusy," he repeated. "Like… a lemon?"

"Like citrus fruit. Like…" Derek sighed, exasperated. "When you peel an orange or a lime, the rind has a distinct smell. It's fresh, clean… _citrusy._ "

Scott's brow furrowed. "She doesn't smell like that at all. Not to me."

"I know." Derek rolled his eyes, seemed to think it over, and then said, "You know how when you go into the forest right after it's rained, everything smells stronger? It's clean and fresh."

"Yeah."

"That's what my dad smelled like. To me, my siblings, to other shifters…" He shook his head. "But not to my mom."

"What'd he smell like to her?"

"She never said. Just that it was different. That sometimes partners smell unique, so they can find each other."

"Partners," Scott repeated.

Derek's gaze fell and then met this. "Partners."

Before Scott could ask him to elaborate anymore, he caught a sound. His head swivelled forward, and he came to an abrupt stop. He held his arms out, as if telling everything around them to be quiet so he could focus in on… A heartbeat.

Scott hurried ahead, passing Derek, and followed the sound. It could've been seconds or minutes, Scott wasn't sure. He climbed over rocks, through bushes, and crossed a creek, and the sound only became louder, more distinct. But it wasn't until he was just feet away from a cave that he smelled it—

 _Pain_.

He stumbled to a stop, kicking up a cloud of dirt underfoot.

Her breathing was thick, like her lungs were struggling to get as much as she needed.

A hand clamped down on Scott's shoulder. "Don't spook her," Derek said quietly.

"How do I—?"

A rustle cut him off and Scott's gaze moved back to the cave. Glowing yellow eyes peered out, followed by a snarl. Her head poked out, snout down and eerie eyes watching him sharply.

Scott swallowed tightly and raised his hands. "Lia… Hey, it's me… You remember me, right?"

She bared her teeth and snapped them at him warningly.

Scott gulped.

Derek was edging around the side, but Malia's gaze was stuck on Scott. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

"Are you hurt?" Scott crouched down, his arms still out to show he wasn't a threat. "Was it the Alpha?"

She stepped out of the cave, her head glowing with the light of the moon. There was dried blood on her chin and down her chest. Was it the Alpha's or hers?

"I just want to help you. That's all." He stared at her searchingly. "You asked me. You _told_ me that if you turned, I was supposed to find you and bring you back… I'm just doing what you wanted. I just want to help—"

She walked forward, her fur bristling, and let out a warning growl that made his skin crawl.

Scott glanced at Derek. "It's not working."

"Try harder."

Scott huffed a sigh. Not for the first time, he resented what Derek seemed to think was _'encouragement_.'

Malia braced her front paws apart and lowered her head, watching him from keen, discerning eyes, ready to attack. But Scott could see the way her legs were trembling, could hear how short her breathing was. She was hurt, she was just trying to hide it. And maybe that was a point of pride, or maybe it was a fear that appearing weak would make her a target. He wasn't sure. What he did know was that he wanted— _needed_ —to help her.

Taking a deep breath, he licked his lips. "I know you're mad at me. I know I screwed things up. I… I want to apologize for that, I want to talk about it, I want us to be what we used to be. But I can't do that if you aren't _you_. And I know that maybe it feels safer this way. Maybe being out here, making a home in this cave, seems easier than back home, but you can't hide. This isn't your home. Not really. You have a dad, you have Shiloh, you… You have Stiles and Allison and Danny. And you have me. Even if you don't want me right now. You have me. _Always_."

Malia cocked her head.

"Keep going," Derek said.

"I don't know what else to say."

"Tell her this is no way to live. That the coyote is a part of her, not all of her. That she can find a balance if she wants to."

Scott turned to look at him. "Sounds like you just did."

Malia had turned to look at Derek.

Derek crouched down too, trying to make himself look less imposing. "We've talked about this… About what it means to hide…" His gaze fell to the ground. "Laura wanted to hide too. When it hurts too much, when we can't take it, sometimes we run. But eventually, you have to go back. You have to face your fears, face the people that hurt you, or you'll spend your whole life running and you'll never get anywhere."

Scott stared at Derek's profile, his brow furrowed. It was rare, but every once in a while, Derek let them see just a little bit of his humanity, a side of him that was often hidden behind the rough exterior he wore like a shield. And maybe that was partly Scott's fault. Maybe he hadn't wanted to see anything more than an enemy in Derek.

Raising his eyes, Derek stared at Malia. "Let us help you."

Malia swayed a little, and then sat back, giving up on trying to look stronger than she felt. But she didn't turn back, not yet. She laid her head down atop her paws and huffed a sigh through her nose.

Scott half-smiled. "I can wait, you know? I've got all night."

The yellow faded from her eyes, leaving brown behind. She inched herself forward on her belly, her ears pressed back against her head, and let out a tiny whimper.

His heart twisted and he held a hand out to her.

She sniffed at the air.

Scott leaned forward. "It's okay… I've got you."

She inhaled deeply, and as she exhaled, her fur fled. Her body shifted back to human, leaving bruised, bare skin behind. Malia lay shivering on the ground, her eyes darting around wildly, her chest heaving. "It hurts," she croaked.

A coat fell across her, swamping her much smaller form.

She looked up, tears lining her eyes.

Derek nodded down at her.

Malia pinched the jacket closed around her front. "How long?"

"If you shifted when I think you did… Five hours, maybe."

Malia closed her eyes. "Did I hurt anybody?"

"The Alpha, I think." Derek knelt next to her and reached out, rubbing a thumb over her chin. "This blood isn't yours."

Her brow furrowed. "I think… I might remember that. It's kind of fuzzy."

"It'll come back to you." Derek turned to Scott. "We should get out of here. The Alpha could still be around."

Scott nodded, but frowned. "Cole and Allison might still be at her house. And even if they aren't, her dad might be."

"What about your place?"

Scott shrugged. "My mom's working an overnight."

"Does anybody wanna ask _me_ what I want?" Malia's voice interrupted.

Scott winced. "Of course. I didn't mean to—"

"I can't go home. If I shift again, I might hurt my dad." She pushed up to her feet and shoved her arms through the sleeves of the jacket. She zipped the front and hugged her arms around herself. "I'll tell my dad I'm at Allison's. That we were up late studying. He won't like it, but he won't fight me on it."

Nodding slowly, Scott stood too. "Okay. So… My place? Or Stiles', if you want."

"No. He's human too. And his dad already wants to interview me. I don't think I need that stress right now." She clenched her teeth. "Your place."

"Okay." Scott felt a nervous energy flood him. She was right there, but still felt so far away.

"Can you walk?" Derek wondered.

Malia nodded. "Yeah. It's just my ribs. They're a little sore."

"A little?" Derek raised a skeptical eyebrow. "It's not a short walk back."

"I can walk," she bit off.

Derek shrugged. "If you say so." He walked ahead and Scott lingered, hesitating.

Malia stepped forward. She wasn't entirely steady, but he could tell she was trying to pretend it wasn't noticeable, so he didn't say anything. He stayed close though, just in case she stumbled. The last time she'd shifted, he'd carried her home. He was prepared to do it again, even if his own body felt rung out and exhausted. Now that the adrenaline and worry had ebbed, his arms and legs felt twice as heavy as usual. His feet were dragging against the forest floor, but he couldn't gather the energy to lift them any higher.

Derek slowed his pace when he realized they weren't keeping up as well as they should. "The longer we take to get out of here, the longer it'll be 'til either of you get some rest. Either pick up the pace or I'm going to start carrying people."

Malia tilted her chin up and tried to walk faster. She winced, her arm tightening around her waist. With a groan, she leaned forward, her free hand on her knee.

Sighing, Derek walked toward her.

"No! I don't need—"

He picked her up easily. "You're hurt and you're slowing us down."

Malia didn't look happy, but she clamped her mouth shut and let him carry her.

Derek glanced behind him. "Scott, keep up."

With gritted teeth, Scott picked up his pace and followed after him.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Chris put the SUV into park and stared ahead at the collection of police officers moving around. The back of an ambulance was open, a body being wheeled in. Walking away from it was the Sheriff and a skinny teenager with a shaved head, his hand on the Sheriff's shoulder.

"That one's Stiles?"

"Another friend of Allison's," Kate murmured.

The boy was fidgety, his gestures broad and dramatic. Chris' gaze moved away from him and toward Kate. "Are you gonna tell me about that talk you had with her?"

"You tell me something first. That night you came across the two betas, one of them was smaller, right?"

Brow furrowed, he hummed, "Mm-hmm."

"Well, was he _just_ smaller?" She turned to him, a familiar and knowing look on her face. "Or could he have been younger, too?"

A slow smile upturned one side of Chris' mouth. His gaze found Stiles once again, thoughtful now. It would complicate things— the boy knew Allison and he was, well, _a boy_. But if he was working with the Alpha, if he had a hand in the strange deaths that had been plaguing Beacon Hills, well… There was only one way to deal with that.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia stared owlishly at Scott's bedroom floor, exhausted and only semi-aware of what Derek and Scott were saying.

"Is it always going to be like this? Every full moon we'll be trying not to kill people?"

"No, not if you do the work. Self-control is possible. You just have to figure out what your triggers are and find ways around them," Derek said. "Sometimes that means an anchor, other times it means willpower. But you do it, because you have to. Because if you don't, then people get hurt."

"What about the Alpha? You said Malia had a mission. That as the coyote, she was trying to prove herself, and that's why she's after it. What if she doesn't stop? What if she keeps turning, even when the moon isn't full, just to kill the Alpha?"

"Is that so bad?" Derek sighed. "The Alpha is killing people, Scott. If Malia succeeded tonight, she'd be saving lives."

"Malia's not a killer."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because— this is what you are. This is who you are now. You're shifters. _Both_ of you. Which means that you have the ability to stop the Alpha. And I can help you do that."

"And if we do… If we put the Alpha down for good… Does it stop?"

"Does what stop?"

"The death. The killing. The— The luring me out in the middle of the night and trying to force me to kill my friends. _Malia_ putting her life on the line to kill it. If we do this, if we help you, can we just go back to being normal teenagers?"

"You'll never be normal. Not really. But yes, without the Alpha around, the killing stops. And then all you have to worry about is chaining yourselves up once a month. You kill the Alpha, you control yourselves, and you find a new normal."

Scott's teeth ground together. "Fine."

"Fine what?"

"We kill the Alpha… And all of this ends."

Derek stared at him a beat. "Deal."

Malia wasn't sure what happened after that. It could've been seconds or minutes, but eventually, Derek left. She couldn't hear his heartbeat or his voice or anything. It was just her and Scott. She blinked the world back into focus and turned to see Scott rummaging around in his dresser. He came out with a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before walking toward her.

His voice was soft and his expression even softer. " _Hey_."

Malia swallowed her heart back into her chest. "Hey." Her voice was raspy and quiet, weighed down with an emotion she wasn't ready to explore yet.

"I know you're tired, so am I, but… You're kind of covered in mud… and blood… and you're pretty bruised up. I'm just gonna run you a bath, okay?"

Malia nodded, a quick, stuttering jerk of her head.

"Stay here."

As if she had the energy to go anywhere else.

That didn't mean she didn't want to. She did. At least, part of her did. Another part of her was so recklessly comforted by him that being anywhere else sounded like torture. There was familiarity here. In this house, this room, this bed. The smell of him encompassed everything. And even beyond that, the faint scent of Melissa touched every corner of the house. She wasn't home— _thank god—_ at least she wouldn't be in the path of Malia's fury if she ended up turning again. She'd never forgive herself if she hurt Melissa.

Malia could smell the steam of the bath. Water smelled different when it was hot. At home, before all of this, she would've added things to her bath. She didn't have them often, preferring the simplicity and quickness of a shower. But when she was feeling luxurious, especially after intense track meets, she would soak in a bath filled with perfumed oils that made her skin silky soft. She had a collection of them she only used for special occasions. She wondered if she could do that now. If the smell, once soft and subtle, might sting her nose now.

Scott came back. He held his hands out for her to take. Her ribs protested as she was brought to her feet, but she tried to hide it. Judging by the look on his face, she wasn't doing a great job. He helped her walk to the shower, an arm around her waist that took most of the weight of her legs. He was basically carrying her while her legs did a good impression of walking.

Faced with the bathtub, she turned to take a seat on the rim, Derek's jacket still wrapped around her. Her feet sunk down into the water, a third of the way up her calves. It was hot, but not scalding. It felt good. She watched little steams of dirt leave her skin and knew she'd have to empty the tub and refill it more than once to get it all off her.

"Okay. I put everything down low; shampoo, soap, a cloth…" Scott pointed to the corner of the tub, where it was all in reach. "I grabbed a bunch of towels too. And there's some clothes for you to put on when you're done."

She stared up at him, only feet away, and yet somehow, the bathroom felt phenomenally large, the space between them gaping wide.

"I'll be close if you need anything. I can get some Tylenol for the pain. I don't know how much it'll help but—"

"Scott," she interrupted, her voice thick.

"Yeah?"

"Don't go."

He blinked.

Malia didn't elaborate. Instead, she shrugged the jacket off her shoulders, lowered the zipper, and with little flair, dropped the fabric to the bathroom floor before pushing off the rim and sliding into the water. She brought her knees up to her chest and leaned forward, resting against them.

Scott stood, awkward and unsure.

Malia stared at the faucet. "I tried calling Derek when I started to shift… He didn't answer."

A beat passed before Scott cleared his throat. "He said that was how he found you. He kept calling your phone and found it in the woods. He left your bag and your stuff here when he dropped us off. I… I don't know how much you heard."

"Not a lot," she admitted. "I was asleep for a while in the car and… I was kind of out of it after."

"It's okay. Things are a little crazy right now."

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Do you know what triggered it?" he wondered. "Was it just the moon or—?"

 _Heartbreak_ , she thought. Rather than lie, she shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Maybe. It could. For next time."

Malia hummed. "What set you off?"

Scott went quiet for a moment. And then his clothes rustled as he took a seat on the floor next to the tub. "I felt off all day. I had a headache and my chest hurt, like I couldn't breathe. And I was seeing things— things that weren't real. There was a question on my chem test, it asked me how many of my friends I was going to kill. But then… I don't know. After school, it was like a switch went off and I wasn't me anymore."

Malia watched a droplet fall from the faucet and hit the water, causing tiny, ricocheting waves. "What brought you back?"

He snorted. " _Derek_. He… I was in the woods by your house and I saw Cole in the driveway. I lost it and I attacked the car." Before she could ask, he said, "He's fine. I didn't hurt him. Derek got there before I could. We fought and he… He basically roared in my face and I just… snapped back into focus. And then he said that you'd turned, that you were trying to find the Alpha and we needed to find you first. But we were too late."

She could feel the bruising on her ribs and down her back. She didn't bother to look, but she was sure it was still visible on her skin. She wondered how long it would take to heal.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Yeah."

Scott turned his head a little. "Do you need help? Washing, I mean. I won't look. I'll just—"

"Okay."

"Really?"

She dragged her gaze from the faucet and toward him. "Just my back. I can do the rest."

Swallowing tightly, Scott nodded. He reached past her legs for the cloth and the soap and then shifted down the tub on his knees. He dipped the cloth in the water and scrubbed the soap against it and then—

A gentle swipe from her right should across to her lowest, left rib. Then straight up to her left shoulder and directly across, back to her right. He made a zig-zagging motion from her shoulders down to the water line, just above small of her back. He dipped the cloth into the water and when his hand climbed her back once more, it left streams of hot water behind. The heat felt good while the trickling water tickled her sensitive skin. She shivered against it, her hands flexing against her legs.

Scott paused. "Okay?"

Malia bit her lip and nodded.

Scott kept going. He washed every inch of her back and around her shoulders. He carefully scrubbed down her sides and hips, taking extra care around any bruises. The cloth mounted her shoulder and made slow work of her arm, pausing when his hand was equal were her face. Her head rested on her knee, face turned toward him, watching. Scott wasn't great at hiding his feelings, not when he was upset anyway, and she could see worry and anger vying for focus.

"I'm okay," she said.

His eyes met hers. "You're purple."

"Not everywhere."

A pink tint filled his cheeks and he cleared his throat. His gaze fell to her chin then. He turned his thumb up and the cloth scrubbed against her chin, wiping away the blood. It fell then, gliding down her neck. His fingers stopped when they reached her collar bone, but she could feel the end of the cloth dangling past that, brushing the tops of her breasts. Scott's gaze abruptly veered away.

Malia caught the cloth and continued wiping away the blood there, dipping it in the water and ringing it out, watching a rusty red liquid pool below. Quickly, she made work of washing her legs and her feet. When she was done, Scott pulled the plug, letting the water drain away. Malia hugged her legs again, shivering against the sudden cold. He refilled the tub with her in it and took the cloth away to toss into the laundry basket. Malia leaned back and sunk into the water, her arms across her chest and her knees up, attempting something like modesty. The water covered her ears and sound became strange and dull. She could hear the water lapping against the tub, Scott's footsteps as he walked around his room, and her own heartbeat thumping away.

Malia stared at the ceiling and let the heat soak into her skin and her bones. She tried not to poke her tongue around her teeth even though she could taste blood. She tried not to remember what it was like to feel her bones crack and break and shift around. To feel her skin split open, replaced with fur. She tried not to remember the feeling of complete and utter _hurt_ as she watched Scott and Lydia kiss in that office, bright red hair tangled around his fingers—

Her eyes slammed shut and her head fell deeper under the water, until she was completely submerged.

She didn't want to die. She'd never wanted that. Even on her worst days, when she missed her mother and her sister beyond anything or anyone. Even with a heart that felt like it had been beaten to a pulp with a sledgehammer. It was never about death. It was always about peace. From her guilt; her loneliness; her inadequacies as a person, a friend, a daughter. From the fear of not knowing who or what she was. Of not knowing how to control herself. Of not controlling that other part of her that scared her so much. Of the Alpha and the drive she felt to hunt and fight and _kill_ it.

Suddenly, she was sucking in gulps of air.

Scott's hand was cupped under her neck as he pulled her up, holding her head above water. He stared down at her, his expression pinched, his eyes full of dread.

She blinked water out of her eyes and shook her head. "I just wanted it to be quiet."

Whatever comfort she thought those words might bring, she was wrong.

His mouth trembled. "Lia…"

Shame filled her. For wanting to hide and run and leave it all in his hands. Hadn't she promised they would do all of this together. Him, her, and Stiles. _Always_. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice thick.

He gathered her up, soaking wet, and hugged her tight. "No, I'm sorry. I should've been there for you. I said I would and I wasn't."

Malia tucked her chin against his shoulder. "It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is. After Saturday… I know I messed up. I know you hate me. I—"

"I don't hate you."

His arms squeezed around her.

Malia's throat tightened, emotion clawing its way up. Tears bit at her eyes. "I love you," she whispered hoarsely. "I'll always love you. You're my best friend and I…" Her fingers dug into his back like tiny claws, but they weren't. They were impossibly human. "I don't blame you. It was the moon. I get that. I just…" _I wanted it to be you._ "Can we forget it happened? _Please?_ Can we start over and just… Just be _us_."

Scott nodded, his fingers tangled in her wet hair. "Of course. Anything you want."

Malia breathed a heavy sigh; relief or disappointment, she wasn't sure which. There was still a weight on her chest, but it wasn't as heavy as before. "Can I get out of the tub now? The water's getting cold."

He pulled back, looking worried. "Yeah. Sure. I… Do you need help standing up?" He kept his eyes on hers, never letting them stray lower than her nose.

"I'm okay," she told him.

"Okay. I, uh, I'll just be outside the door." He stood then, his shirt hopelessly soaked, and walked to the door, pulling it closed behind him.

Malia stared at it a moment, before eventually pulling the plug on the tub. She planted her hands on the rim and pushed herself up. Her knees wobbled, but didn't give out. She climbed free of the tub and stood on the fuzzy mat, water dripping down her body. Using one of the _four_ towels Scott had left for her, she dried herself off. When she was done, she pulled on the clothes he'd stacked on the closed toilet lid. Squeezing toothpaste into her mouth, she used her finger to try and clean her teeth, unwilling to use Scott's toothbrush. It wasn't a perfect solution, but at least she couldn't taste blood anymore. Rinsing her mouth out, she then wrapped a second towel around her head and squeezed her hair in clumps, trying to get as much water out as she could. She used his brush to get out the tangles and when she was mildly satisfied with the result, she bundled up both towels and left the bathroom.

Scott was sitting on the edge of his bed, which seemed to be dressed in new sheets and pillow cases. He'd discarded his wet shirt and pulled on a pair of shorts.

Malia threw the towels in the laundry and spotted her bag on the floor. Scooping it up, she dug her phone out. The battery was low, but at least it wasn't dead. She scrolled through her messages to see she had a bunch from Allison, Stiles, and her dad.

She texted her dad first— ' _hey, sorry! i'm at allison's. we were studying and didn't realize how late it was. i'm just gonna stay here tonight. i'll be home before school tomorrow to change.'_

She opened Allison's next. It was a bunch of worried texts trying to see if she was okay. Then a strange text saying that she'd gone to Malia's house but some animal spooked them and she went home.

Malia sighed. —' _sorry i didn't answer. i just kind of went home and passed out. you're okay tho?'_

Allison was surprisingly quick to text back. —' _totally okay, just gave me a mini heart attack. i'll tell you about it tomorrow. are you feeling any better?'_

Malia glanced at Scott. He'd peeled back the blankets on one side of the bed and climbed in on the other, his back against the wall as he fiddled with his own phone. —' _i'm okay. or i will be.'_ She paused and chewed her lip. —' _thanks for being there_ '

Allison sent back a heart emoji. —' _of course. what are bff's for?_ ' She added a winky face.

Half-smiling, Malia sent back a heart. —' _see you tomorrow_ '

Allison texted back— ' _night xo_ '

Last, but not least, Malia opened Stiles' many, _many_ messages. It was a barrage of worry and second-guessing himself. He told her Scott had screwed up, big time, that Stiles had handcuffed him to the radiator, that Scott was loose, that he was looking for him, that there was an accident up ahead and he was scared it was his dad. Malia's heart dropped into her stomach. And then Stiles sent her the infamous _'GREEN!'_ message and let her know that the Sheriff was fine, and Stiles was going to get back to looking for Scott soon.

Malia moved to the bed and sat on the edge. She texted Stiles a simple— _'he's okay. derek found him and they found me. i'm at his place now. everything's green.'_

A typing bubble formed immediately. —' _oh thank god!'_ he wrote, followed quickly by— _'uh, does this mean you two are cool again?'_

She swallowed down the doubt that was crowding her throat and replied— ' _mostly. anyway it's late, get some sleep, we can exchange stories tomorrow_.' She paused before adding— ' _love you_ '

Stiles sent a smiling poop emoji back— ' _full moon's making you sentimental, tater tot,_ ' followed by— ' _but seriously yes, definitely story swapping. first thing! text me as soon as you wake up!_ _love you too, night_ '

Putting her phone down on the bedside table, Malia laid back against the bed, wincing as her back and ribs pulled.

"I forgot the Tylenol." Scott flipped the blanket off himself. "I'll be right back."

"It's fine." She grabbed his wrist to keep him from going. "It'll heal in a few hours. I'm not even bleeding."

He stared back at her, unconvinced.

"Scott, really. I don't even think Tylenol will work on me. My metabolism will probably break it down too fast."

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Probably, yeah."

"I just want to sleep."

He hesitated a moment, but eventually climbed back under the covers. He sunk lower in the bed and laid his head down against the pillow.

Malia watched him a beat, before reaching up to turn out the lamp. There was nothing but the mocking moon coming in through the window to light the room. Its glow was unnaturally bright, or maybe it just felt like it was given their circumstances. Minutes passed and, despite her exhaustion, she couldn't quite get her head to shut up. There was just too much that happened, too much she didn't know. She'd obviously fought the Alpha, and lost, but she must've done something right, or she wouldn't have been wearing its blood.

"I know I said we'd go back to how we were, but… I need to tell you something." Scott cleared his throat. "And I'm not sure how much you'll like me after."

Malia's heart thumped. "What?"

"Today, after school, I… Stiles asked me to do something. To talk to Lydia and find out if she liked him."

Something sour burst inside Malia's mouth.

"We were in this office, talking. But I didn't ask her about Stiles." He paused. "I was going to talk to Allison, but I couldn't find her. And you've been hanging out with Lydia lately, so I guess I thought it made sense…"

Her brow furrowed. _Huh?_

"I just wanted to know how much I screwed up. I thought maybe she could tell me if you were okay, if you'd forgive me, and… I don't know. She said something and I just kind of… _snapped_. The next thing I knew, I was kissing her. And I know how shitty that sounds. Stiles has liked Lydia since third grade. I would never do that to him! Not if I was thinking straight. I mean, it's still my fault. I should've had more control. But it just sort of happened and… Stiles found out and I don't know how I'm going to make it up to him. But you know me, I wouldn't have done that normally. I— I don't even _like_ Lydia. Not like that. I mean, I don't really know her, but she's not really… I mean, she's pretty, but…"

Malia stared at the ceiling, overwhelmed with a flood of emotional exhaustion. Her voice came out tired and bland as she said, "Stiles will forgive you, eventually. He knows the moon is screwing with your head."

"I know, but… He was so hurt and _I_ did that." Scott sighed. "It feels like everything I do is wrong."

"Scott, it was a mistake." She rubbed at her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "It was just like Saturday."

"No, it wasn't."

She turned her head a little, glancing at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… Saturday was different. With Lydia, I… If I never saw her again, _okay_. It wouldn't bother me. I'm not saying I want her to die or something, I just mean she's never really been a part of my life, so it wouldn't change anything. But, if what I did pushed you away permanently, I… I'd feel that. I'd _hate_ that." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "The truth is, when we were in the woods and I was trying to get you to turn back, I wasn't sure it would work. Derek said I was the only one he thought could do it, but I didn't believe him. Because I can feel you pulling away. And that's the last thing I want."

Malia's gaze fell and her mouth flattened.

"The only thing you asked me to do was bring you back, and I wasn't sure I could. I don't want to be a liability for you. I don't want to be the reason you're not safe."

"You're not—"

"Malia, you're my anchor. And I felt that today. Without you, I felt like I was lost. But that's not fair to you. You don't owe me anything. I'm the one that messed things up and—"

"You didn't mess things up. You weren't yourself. I should've done something. I should've gotten help or stopped you. I should've made sure you were safe. I'm the one that let things get out of control because I—" She cut herself off and clenched her teeth. "Look, Saturday, today, clearly the moon just makes you want to kiss whoever's closest. We'll remember that for next time and get you a muzzle or something."

Scott snorted. "I don't think it's that simple."

Malia turned over to lay on her side, facing him. "You said it yourself, you wouldn't have kissed Lydia if you were thinking straight."

"That's Lydia. Even under the best of circumstances, I don't think I'd kiss her."

Malia frowned. "She's not the worst. She's actually really smart."

He half-smiled. "I know."

"I'm just saying… If you did like her, I'd kind of get it. She's beautiful and smart. Stiles doesn't have the worst taste." She shrugged. "She's also shallow and obsessed with her social status, but who knows, maybe exposure to people who aren't will help her grow."

"Maybe, but I don't want to be the test subject." He stared at her searchingly. "I don't like Lydia like that. I think I mostly kissed her because I was hurt and angry."

"Not the best reason to kiss anyone."

He sighed. "No, not really."

Malia's gaze washed over his face, the hollows seemed darker where the moon couldn't quite reach. "What did she say?"

"Huh?"

"That made you snap."

She watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

His voice was lower, deeper, as he said, "The truth, I guess. I just didn't want to hear it."

Malia stared at his profile. "I'd take anything Lydia says with a grain of salt."

His head turned to face her, brow furrowed. "Weren't you the one who said she was smart?"

"She is. Doesn't mean she uses it for good." Malia shrugged. "Anyway, Lydia doesn't matter."

"She doesn't?"

"No. Stiles does. He's your best friend. You need to talk to him. Like, first thing tomorrow."

"I know…" Scott groaned. "He handcuffed me to the radiator and tried to feed me water in a dog dish"

Her mouth twitched. "Yeah, he texted me about that."

"Do… I mean, do you think I deserved it?"

She raised her eyes to meet his. "I think… it's complicated. You weren't _you,_ but Stiles doesn't know what this feels like. Having that part of you that you can't totally control. And maybe it was dumb and petty, the way that he acted, but from where he's standing… I don't know. Even if you didn't mean to, even if you'd never do it on purpose, that doesn't erase the part that hurts. Stiles has liked Lydia forever. And even if she never likes him back, some part of him isn't ready to let go of the fantasy yet. The idea that you'd pick her, that she'd pick you, that's the part that stings. That he's not good enough. And even the person who should be rooting for him, that knows him better than anyone else, knows that."

"But he _is_ good enough." Scott shook his head. "Maybe he doesn't belong with Lydia and maybe he does. I don't know. But Stiles is… He's not just my best friend, he's my brother. And he deserves a lot more than he thinks."

"So, tell him that."

"I will… If he ever talks to me again."

Malia rolled her eyes. "He will. Because you're his brother, too."

Scott nodded.

Quiet filled the room then, not nearly as tense as it had been before. It was easier to focus on Stiles, on repairing his and Scott's friendship than on her own pain. But, like all things, it was short-lived.

"Lia?"

"Hmm?"

"Did I hurt you?"

Her heart squeezed. She thought about lying. About burying this whole awful thing and never digging it back up, but she wasn't sure that would do anything. She wasn't sure that would make either of them feel better. They agreed to move on, to let it go, to forget it ever happened, but obviously that wasn't an option. However… "Do you think the moon's still affecting us?"

Scott's gaze moved to the window, staring through the curtains. "Maybe. Probably."

Malia nodded. "Okay. Well, maybe this isn't the best time to talk about it. Any of it. I don't think I could take another shift and I'm pretty sure you can't handle one either."

He hummed agreeably. "Probably not."

She chewed her lip. "So, ask me again tomorrow."

He stared at her. "Tomorrow," he agreed.

Malia turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling, streaked with reaching moon beams. For the first time, she understood the appeal of a den, far away from civilization and all the pesky feelings it required. But if Scott wanted answers, he would get them. If only because Malia had spent all day running—from him and herself and the inevitable. Maybe it was better to just tell him. To rip the Band-Aid off and get it over with. Maybe then, moving on wouldn't just be a concept but a reality. They could be honest with each other, like they had with everything else, and her heart could begin to heal.

* * *

 **author's note** : _this chapter was an attempt at exploring a few different pov's that either haven't been explored or at all or that much, like allison's and stiles'. there's a lot directly from the show happening in this chapter because of that, like many of scott and stiles' interactions, which i just felt were important to their relationship and understanding scott's frame of mind throughout the full moon._

 _for me personally, it was nice to have derek and scott team up. they have a mutual goal, helping malia, but they both are just so judgy and suspicious of each other that it makes it awkward and tense a lot of the time. i do think it's important though because it gives scott a chance to see that derek really does care about malia and for derek to sort of mentor scott through his freak out. i don't want to totally derail their relationship through the series by making derek's only close bond with malia. it takes some time for scott and derek to reach a point of total trust in each other even in the show and that'll be true here as well._

 _i allllllmost had malia's confession at the end of this chapter. but they're still under the influence of the moon and i really want them to be able to be honest with each other and stop running from their feelings without that added uncertainty. at this point, malia wants to forgive and forget, but her pain is still there and she needs to voice that. and scott is going to be struggling with a lot between malia and stiles._

 _at the end of this chapter, with malia basically at her weakest and most vulnerable state, she's lost, and as angry as she is with scott, as hurt as she is by what's happened, he's still a comfort to her. even her coyote, wounded and defensive, recognizes that. but, by next chapter, she won't be as physically exhausted and she'll be back on the defensive in terms of her feelings and shielding her heart. that can only last for so long though... i can definitely promise that these two are going to make a lot of progress very soon. ;)_

 **things to look forward to next chapter** : _malia & stiles swap stories; malia avoids scott; friiiiendshiiip; allison confronts some people; and malia answers scott's question._

 _thanks so much for reading. please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	27. wolf's bane 1

**word count** : 12,962 **  
episode** : 1x09 - Wolf's Bane

* * *

 **XXVII**

Scott waited until he was sure she was asleep. Until her heartbeat slowed and her breathing evened out. Until a familiar and quiet snore filled his ears. And then he rolled over, took a moment to watch the moon drape her exhausted face, and finally reached out. His touch was tentative, expecting her to flinch awake. But she didn't, too tired from the day, the night, and everything in between. A single fingertip met her arm, and the pain was quick to follow. He watched black lines crawl up his finger, spread across his hand, and reach up his arm. It was a dull, throbbing _ache_. Like a few years ago, when he'd fallen off the roof, and landed on the too-hard ground. It'd knocked the air out of him and left him utterly stunned for a moment. There was numbness first, followed by a quick burst of pain that lit up every nerve-ending.

He'd considered asking, offering to take the pain away while she was awake. But Malia was stubborn; she didn't like the idea of her pain becoming someone else's. Scott wasn't sure he understood that logic considering Malia was always the first to offer her help to people she cared about. He also knew she wouldn't be happy with him if she found out he was taking away the pain now, with her fast asleep and unable to tell him different. But she was already unhappy with him. Unhappy might be an understatement. He could feel the strain between them, the distance, festering away, digging a gaping trench between bodies that even now were only inches apart. But he'd felt it. Since Saturday, a pressure weighing down his shoulders. The weight of his regret over crossing a boundary, putting at risk a friendship he held so close to him that the idea of not having it any longer felt like a physical blow.

She didn't hate him. She told him so.

' _I love you. I'll always love you. You're my best friend and I don't blame you_.'

It was a comfort, a relief, but it was short-lived. Seeing her so bruised and broken, so uncertain, so lost and just... empty.

When he found her in the bathtub, he'd thought... For a moment, it looked like she was trying to drown. Like she was _done,_ and she didn't want to fight anymore. And that terrified him. Malia was a fighter. She always had been. The idea that this had taken that from her, that she was giving up, scared him shitless. He couldn't lose her. Especially not like that. He was prepared to pack his feelings away and shoulder the unrequited love he'd been carrying for far too long. But to lose her entirely... _No_.

She was struggling. Maybe that was the moon or maybe it was something more, something deeper she wasn't ready to face or talk about. All he knew was that she was hurting and he... Well, he had the ability to take away pain. At least a little bit, for a little while.

So, he let his finger graze her arm and he took what pain from her he could. And the more he took, the more he saw the furrow of her brow and the firm line of her mouth ease. Her shoulders loosened and her body sunk deeper into the bed. The tension and pain of before lessened, at least enough for her to sleep peacefully.

Still, as he settled in next to her, his head resting on his pillow, he was careful to stay in contact. Even if it meant just the tip of a finger pressed to her arm, enough that he could continue leeching the pain from her, to give her a little reprieve.

That was how Scott fell asleep. Not exactly comfortable. Exhausted and achy, for sure. But content. Relieved in the face of her comfort.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Malia was a coward. This was proven by the fact that she was sneaking out of Scott's bedroom at six in the morning. He was passed out, face down in his pillow, one arm stretched above his head.

Still dressed in his t-shirt and shorts, with her bag slung over her shoulder, Malia tip-toed barefoot down the stairs. She couldn't hear Melissa's heartbeat anywhere in the house and her car was missing from out front. Still, Malia was careful not to make so much as a peep.

Stiles was outside, his jeep idling. He had his head propped up on one hand, his elbow lodged between the door and the window, mouth hanging open.

With a fond roll of her eyes, she crossed the porch, hopped to the driveway below, and hurried to the jeep. Climbing inside, she sunk down in the passenger seat and let out a long sigh. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, let's go."

Jarred, Stiles blinked wildly and reached for the steering wheel. His hand fumbled for the keys as he squinted at the steering wheel. "I was just resting my eyes."

"Uh-huh."

Pulling away from the house, he twisted in his seat to make sure the area was clear.

Malia stared up at Scott's dark bedroom window, her mouth pursed. Regret gnawed at her stomach. For leaving. For being there in the first place. Not even twenty-four hours ago, she watched him kiss someone else, and yet here she was, taking comfort in the one person she needed to distance herself from. It was a matter of self-respect at this point. If she wanted to get through this with any kind of dignity, she needed to stop leaning on him in her weakest moments. Especially when her feelings for him were partly to blame for her loss of control in the first place.

Turning onto the road, Stiles started in the direction of her house, yawning so wide his jaw gave a distinct _crack_. As his mouth closed, he gave his head a shake and rubbed the heel of one palm against his eye. "Not that I don't appreciate the early morning wake up call, but remind me again why I'm picking you up at the crack of dawn?"

"It's not _that_ early."

Stiles' brows hiked. He glanced at her and then motioned to himself. "Do you see this? I'm fully dressed—"

She resisted the urge to sigh.

"—because if I wasn't, I'd have to drop you off, race home, shower, get dressed, and then come right back. But since I'm an amazing friend—"

"And so humble, too."

"—I got up when it was still dark out, so I could come sneak _Juliet_ out of Romeo's bedroom."

Malia sighed. "I just couldn't handle it. Not first thing. "

"Handle what?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. "It's a long story..."

"That I woke up at 5:30 in the morning to hear. So, spill."

She sunk down deeper in her seat, shoulders hunched. "Yesterday sucked. I mean, I expected it to, and it started out bad, but it only got worse. By the end of school, I thought, 'okay, I made it. I'll go home, call Derek, and spend the night chained up somewhere.' Instead, I..." Her heart squeezed. "I ran into Allison and she was acting weird, panicky, and she was trying to get me to turn around and walk away, but I didn't. And then I turned my head and... there's Scott, kissing Lydia."

Stiles winced, his hand tightening around the steering wheel. " _Dick_ ," he muttered.

"Yeah." Her gaze fell to her lap, where she was hooking and pulling at her fingers. "I get it, you know? I get that it was the moon. I wasn't myself yesterday either, not totally."

"No? Who'd you make out with behind your friends' backs?"

She chewed her lip. "I just... I know what it feels like not to have control."

He hummed. "Does that make it okay?"

"No... I don't know." She shook her head. "Stiles, be honest, okay? Do you really think Scott would ever purposely do anything to hurt you? Do you think he'd go out of his way to kiss Lydia, knowing you've had a crush on her all these years?"

"I hate that word. _Crush_." He pulled a face. "I prefer to think of it as 'unrealized romantic potential.'"

"Call it whatever you want. My point is that Scott is your best friend, you two are like brothers, and I just don't think he'd do this if he was thinking straight."

"I know that. You don't think I know that?" He flared his fingers up from the steering wheel. "But you didn't hear what he said, the way he talked about her, it was like he was doing it to hurt me. Like he was getting some kind of sick pleasure out of screwing me over."

"Maybe he was. Maybe werewolves are assholes. But that's one night out of the month and it's only because he doesn't have control yet."

"Maybe that's true. Maybe today he's a mopey, apologetic, sad-sack." He shrugged his shoulders high. "But that doesn't make me feel better. That— It doesn't make it go away!"

"I know. It sucks and it hurts and I get it." She rubbed her palm over her forehead. "I just don't want us to get hung up on one part of this so much that we miss the bigger picture."

"Which is?"

"Scott got out of the handcuffs. He attacked Cole and Allison and he could've done a lot worse. And as much as Derek wanted to help me, I shifted before he could even try."

"Because of Scott," he muttered, his voice low and bitter. At Malia's unenthused frown, he said, "Admit it, if you hadn't seen him puckered up with Lydia, you would've made it out of the school and been chained down for the night."

"Yes, probably. But the fact is, I didn't. And my first instinct as a coyote was to make a home in the woods and then try to kill the Alpha. We have to find a better way to handle this stuff. Handcuffs aren't going to work and things aren't always going to go to plan, so what happens then?"

"Well, what happened last night?" He divided his attention between her and the road ahead. "You said Scott and Derek found you, right?"

"Yeah, _after_ I already went head-to-head with the Alpha."

He whistled, eyebrows hiked. "Do you remember how that went?"

"A little. It's kind of like when you wake up from a dream and you only remember bits and pieces, but... I know I bit them. The back of the neck, I think. I still had blood on me after. But it threw me off and..." She swallowed tightly. "It wasn't good. I mean, my ribs were so sore I could barely breath and I just feel like... I don't know for sure, but I really think I almost died."

Stiles stared at her a beat before his gaze moved back to the road.

"That's the worst part. I can't control her when I shift. She could do anything, and I have to live with the consequences. Or _not_ live, which is a whole other problem. If the coyote keeps chasing the Alpha on her own, what if I don't survive it next time? What if all Scott and Derek find is my body? And do I shift back? Am I gonna be just like Laura?" Malia could feel the panic climbing her throat. Her chest grew tight and her throat burned with emotion.

"Hey..." Stiles reached out and gripped her shoulder. " _No_."

Blinking back the sting of tears, Malia stared at him searchingly. "How do you know?"

"I'm not gonna let that happen, okay?" His brow furrowed. "Look, we split up and Scott pulled some shady werewolf shit, but... Now we know. You're right, we take this as an example and we prepare better next time. That means handcuffs are a no. We can try the chains and..." He sighed. "And we bring Derek into it. We find out what works and we use that. No more going our separate ways. We do it together, all of it."

"What about the Alpha?"

" _That_... I don't know. We have to find a way to stop it. It's killing people and hurting you and it really wants Scott to kill us, so... It's gotta go, right? Some way or another."

"Yeah." She frowned. "Our lives are so weird."

Stiles snorted. "Totally weird."

Malia leaned back in her seat and stared out at the endless, winding road, dense trees lining either side. "I want to hate Scott, but I don't know how."

"Because of the kiss?"

"Because of everything. Because... It hurts. So much more than it should. It's not like... I mean, we aren't together, you know? He can kiss whoever he wants. But ever since I turned, even before that..." She pressed her fingers against her heart. "I felt like he was _mine_. Not in a... God, not in a territorial, stay away from my man, kind of way. _Ew_. But like... We knew each other. We were there for each other. And it just felt so much stronger and deeper than anything else. But then there was Allison and now Lydia and it just feels like..." Her voice broke. "Like a sign that I need to let go and move on and I want to. I really do. Because I want him to be happy, but I want to be happy too. And if I keep holding on to this stupid, idealized dream of what we can be, I can't do that." She stared at the roof of the jeep in the hopes that it would keep her tears from falling. "It would just be so much easier if I could hate him."

"But you don't."

"No." She laughed, but it was cracked and heavy and she could feel her heart spilling out over her shirt. "He asked me if he hurt me and I wanted to tell him yes. But he didn't, not really. I'm hurting myself. _I'm_ the one that keeps holding out hope. _I'm_ the one that keeps reading into everything. It's _me_."

"Malia..." Stiles shook his head. "You can't help who you fall in love with."

"Maybe." She sniffled. "Anyway, I said we shouldn't talk about it when the moon was still affecting us. I told him to ask me today. And then I called you and begged you to pick me up because I'm a _coward_ and I don't want to deal with it right now."

"I get it."

"But I can't run forever, right? I mean, maybe it's a good thing. Maybe we talk and I get it all out and he lets me down easy and we just... Focus on the werewolf stuff. Because that's a lot more important than bowling balls and butterflies."

"I was totally with you until the bowling reference."

She waved dismissively. "Never mind."

Stiles looked from the road to her and back. "What happens if you talk and he doesn't let you down easy?"

"Didn't we just talk about how sucky getting my hopes up is?" She shook her head. "I just want to put it all behind me and focus on the Alpha and getting control and not hurting innocent people. I just want a normal life again."

Stiles nodded. His brow furrowed thoughtfully as he stared at the road. "I just want you to be happy."

"I know. I want that for you too."

Stiles scrubbed a hand back over his shaved head. "Do you think I should forgive Scott?"

"I think... you should talk to him. I know you're hurt and you're mad and it feels like he should've been able to control it, but... It's complicated. All of it is."

Stiles nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Okay, you'll talk to him?"

"I can't promise I won't yell, but yeah. I'll hear him out."

Malia took a deep breath. "Okay."

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Malia bee-lined it for her bedroom, leaving Stiles to raid her over-stocked pantry, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

Stripping out of Scott's borrowed clothes, she hopped into the shower and went through her usual morning routine.

Standing in front of the mirror, towel wrapped around her hair, she stared at herself. Her ribs had healed overnight, not a bruise to be seen. Small miracles, she supposed. Her body overall was feeling a lot less runover than she'd been expecting. Yesterday, the exhaustion had been so acute, so all consuming, she couldn't imagine feeling any other way. But now... She was feeling okay. Still nervous and guilty and angry at herself, but physically, she was almost up to going for a run.

Making her way to her bedroom, she dried herself down, tossed her towels in the hamper, and dug around in her dresser for something to wear.

Mostly dressed and just pulling on her socks, she noticed a familiar set of paws peeking out from under her bed. Sliding off the edge, she crouched on the floor and dragged the blanket and sheet up to see Shiloh underneath.

Whimpering, she wiggled deeper under the bed, watching Malia from nervous eyes.

Malia's heart lurched. "Hey..." She laid herself down on her stomach and rested her arms on the floor, hands stacked under her chin. "What's wrong? Huh?"

Shiloh stared at her, but didn't move, her ears turned flat against her head.

"Did I scare you? Was I...?" Her brow furrowed as she looked around. "Did I come here last night?"

Shiloh wasn't about to answer, but Malia realized abruptly that her room was not as clean as it'd been when she'd last left it. There were clothes hanging awkwardly in her closet, one of her pillows was missing, her blanket was askew. Had she been here? Had the coyote come looking for something or someone at home?

Her heart suddenly started hammering.

Pulling herself up from the floor, she left her room and made her way down the hall, only to stumble to a stop. There were scratch marks on Kylie's door. It wasn't open, but something had clearly tried to get in. They were on the floor too. She'd been here. But why? Not for the first time, she wished she'd tuned into what Scott and Derek had been talking about as they'd left the woods last night. But she'd been so tired, so overwhelmed by everything. She would just have to call Derek later and have him fill her in on everything he knew.

Making her way into the living room, she found Stiles sitting on the couch, watching TV, a big bowl of cereal clutched to his chest. "Hey," he garbled through a mouthful. "Y'r da' lef' a no..."

Malia blinked at him.

He waved a spoon behind him, splashing a bit of milk around. "On the cou'er."

Rolling her eyes, Malia made her way into the kitchen. She found a torn off piece of paper on the counter with her dad's familiar scrawl. A bolt of relief hit her hard. Realizing she'd been around the house as a coyote, which had clearly scared Shiloh, had put her on edge. What if her dad had been around? What if she'd hurt him?

His note was simple—

 _Hey sweetie, hope you had fun at Allison's. Was hoping we could have dinner together tonight, catch up. I should be home around 6. Maybe I'll make us spaghetti or something. Have a good day at school! Love you, dad_

Malia bit her lip as she smiled. It was nice. Seeing how hard he was trying.

Turning on her heel, she faced the too-many boxes of cereal he'd picked up and plucked one from the shelf. Pouring herself a bowl, she joined Stiles on the couch. "Shiloh's scared of me."

Stiles looked at her, gave it some thought, and said, "She'll come around."

Malia stirred her cereal and sighed.

Stiles bumped her shoulder.

She bumped his back.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

When Scott's alarm went off, he startled awake, thrashing a little. He was only mildly surprised to find his body still achy and exhausted. He imagined the adrenaline rush and crash of last night would be one thing, but adding Malia's pain on top of it had probably rung him out. Speaking of Malia... He turned to her side of the bed to find it noticeably empty.

Groaning, he fell back against his pillow, threw an arm over his face, and let the other fall atop the alarm clock, crushing it beyond repair.

Maybe it was wishful thinking to hope that she might have stayed around. He knew he'd screwed up. Things were already on unsteady ground to begin with, but adding in his dick behavior yesterday, kissing Lydia, attacking Cole and Allison, and just generally not being there when Malia needed him most, yeah... This would be the perfect time for Stiles to make an 'in the doghouse' joke. Only the likelihood of that was pretty small since he'd pissed off Stiles too.

Letting his arm fall away from his face, Scott frowned at the ceiling.

Today was going to _suck_.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia was in the middle of putting her backpack away, wondering what books she'd need for first class, when she heard quick footsteps coming in her direction. If it wasn't immediately followed by a familiar scent, she might've gone on the defensive. But, thankfully, she knew that scent. So, when she stepped back from her locker and turned, she was just in time to get an armful of Allison.

"I've been worried about you all night!"

Slightly strangled, Malia wiggled her head around to give her neck some space and grunted, "Really?"

" _Yes!"_ Allison leaned back to see her better. "After that whole thing with Scott and... Lydia." She winced. "And then that animal attacking Cole's car when I was at your house... It was weird. And all I could think was that you _live_ out there. I don't even know what it was. But..." She shuddered. "It freaked me out."

"But you're okay." Malia rubbed her hands up and down Allison's arms. "And, as you can see, so am I."

Allison's brow furrowed, unconvinced. "Yesterday you looked like your heart had been put through a shredder."

"Well, it kind of felt that way." Malia shrugged. "But it's fine. I'm fine."

Still unsure, Allison just stared at her a beat before yanking her into another hug.

Malia rolled her eyes, but grinned, resting her chin on Allison's shoulder. "Is this for me or because you were freaked out last night?"

"Both." She squeezed her a little tighter. "Is it just me or do weird things happen here more than other places?"

Malia sighed. "It wasn't always like this."

"No?" Allison let go and stepped back. "When did it start?"

 _That night_ , she thought. The night the body was found. That a werewolf bit Scott. That they went into the woods looking for adventure and instead found a life-long curse.

"Recently, I guess." She smiled then. "Maybe it was you." She turned back to her locker to pull out her books. "Maybe you set the whole thing in motion."

Allison snorted. "Yeah, sure. Except I never had these problems anywhere else."

Closing her locker, Malia turned on her heel nodded her head toward the hall. They started walked together, shoulder to shoulder. Biting her lip a moment, she gave it some thought before she said, "I've heard some theories. Totally weird theories that we probably shouldn't put much stock in, but still..."

"Oooh, like what?"

"Well, apparently Beacon Hills is on a bunch of ley lines, and if you believe in that kind of thing, it could make it the kind of place bad things just tend to happen in."

"Okay... But you said it wasn't like this before."

"It wasn't. At least, I don't think it was."

"Well, what changed then?"

Malia shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it depends on who or what you think is doing everything. Maybe it's a psycho killer with a grudge or rabid animals or... werewolves." Her gaze skittered toward Allison curiously.

She snorted. "Werewolves?"

There was no pause. No suspicion or nervousness. Just an immediate disbelief.

Malia breathed out a little sigh of relief and then knocked her elbow against Allison's. "Could be Bigfoot."

"The Tooth fairy."

"Santa Claus."

"Lochness Monster."

"Vampires."

"Swamp creature."

"Aliens."

"Abominable Snow—"

" _Allison!_ "

They both looked as Lydia stood down the hall, chin raised, staring at Allison expectantly, one hand gripped tight around the strap of a tiny purse perched on her shoulder, the other on her cocked hip.

Allison stared back a beat, then tucked her hand under Malia's elbow, and turned her down a connecting hallway. Clearing her throat, she said, "Anyway, where was I?"

Malia paused. But then, she didn't really want to see or talk to Lydia right now either. So, she went along... "I'm pretty sure you were suggesting the Abominable Snowman has invaded Beacon Hills."

She grinned. "That's right. And he has a red-nosed sidekick."

Laughing, Malia shook her head. "Watch out Beacon Hills."

* * *

 **...**

* * *

By break, Scott had only tracked down one of his friends. Stiles was standing at his locker, thumbing through one of his books, brow furrowed and tongue stuck out the side of his mouth in concentration.

Gathering up his courage, Scott made his way over, half-smiling hopefully. "Hey..."

Stiles glanced at him and then returned his attention to his books. "Hey."

Scott stared at him searchingly. "Look, I... I owe you an apology. For last night, for everything I did and said and..." He sighed. "Stiles, that's not me. That's not who I am. That's not what I think and it's definitely _not_ something I would choose to do. I'm not trying to blame it on the moon but—"

"That's kind of the thing though, right?" Stiles shook his head. "Either it's the moon or it isn't. Either the moon makes you the biggest _dick_ of all the dicks or... it just lets you be who you really are. A _dick_."

Scott nodded. "I deserve that."

"Yeah, man, you do." He shoved his books into his locker and then shook his head. Hands on his hips, he pivoted to face him better. "The thing is, I _do_ know you. And I know that Lydia— as beautiful and smart and _amazing_ as she is— she's not exactly your type. You like Malia. And maybe if you'd get your head out of your ass, she'd be the one your making out with on full moons. But she isn't. Instead, you're making out with the one girl…" He flattened his mouth and took a deep breath through his nose. "I know that last night, you weren't thinking straight. You weren't _you._ "

"I wasn't!"

"I get that, Scott. Logically, I mean, yeah, I know that. But it's hard to forget the things you said. And... It's _Lydia_ , you know? I mean, of all the people in this freaking school that you could've kissed, it had to be her?"

"Trust me, if I could do it over, I wouldn't. I'd never _choose_ to hurt you."

Tapping his foot, Stiles nodded. "All right. Okay. So, let's say we chalk this up to the full moon. But Scott, seriously…" He stared at him "We can't do this every month. There's gotta be a plan for next time."

"You're right. I know that. There was just so much going on this time and I don't know what I expected it to feel like, but it was intense." Scott stepped a little closer and lowered his voice as he said, "I attacked Cole and Allison."

"Yeah, Malia told me this morning."

"You saw her?" Scott's eyebrows hiked. "Is she okay? I think she's hiding her scent or her heartbeat or something. I can't find it. I've been looking for her, but..."

"She's all right. I think she's trying to process everything. It was a lot for her. You know, she thinks she almost died. She can't remember everything, it's just a gut feeling she's having, but... We could've lost her and we wouldn't've even known." He shook his head. "We need to prepare better. For _everything_."

Scott frowned. The frustrating feeling of helplessness swamped him. "How? I mean, Derek can help, but right now he's on the run from the police, because of _me_."

"So, he keeps his furry head down a while." Stiles shrugged. "That or you tell my dad that maybe you got it wrong. Maybe it wasn't Derek. He hasn't interviewed Malia yet, she could say it was someone else."

"Like who?"

"I don't know. Just someone else. Someone _not_ Derek."

"You think your dad would believe that?"

"Maybe..." He shook his head. "Maybe not. And it won't stop the Argents from trying to find him."

Scott groaned. "Why do I keep screwing things up?"

"To be fair, the Argents would've been hunting Derek anyway."

Sighing, Scott fell back against the lockers. "How do I fix it? Any of it?"

Stiles stared at him a beat. "Well, apologizing to me was a good start. Maybe you find Malia and do the same."

Scott grimaced. "That's if she ever talks to me again."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Malia stood at her locker, putting her books away and grabbing out her bag, hooking it over her shoulder. Danny had texted her earlier, wanting to meet up by her favorite tree.

A cleared throat caught her attention and she closed her locker door to find Lydia standing on the other side, her chin raised and her nose in the air. She brushed a red curl from her face. "I can't find Allison."

"Did you try texting her?"

"Of _course_ I did. I've called, texted, emailed, _yelled_ at her from across a hall..." She tapped a foot impatiently. "None of that is working, which is why I'm here, asking you what is going on."

Malia shrugged her bag over her other shoulder. "Sounds like something you need to figure out with Allison." She turned to leave, but Lydia was quick to follow, her heels clicking.

"I have no idea what happened. Everything was fine yesterday, but now today, she won't even look at me. I haven't done anything to—"

Malia turned to stare at her. "Nothing?"

Lydia stared at her a beat. Her eyes darted away and then she raised her chin even higher. "Nothing I have to apologize for."

Malia hummed. "Okay. Well, good luck."

"What?"

She started walking backwards, away from Lydia. "With Allison."

Lydia stared at her. "Look, Malia, I—"

"Have nothing to apologize for." Malia shrugged her shoulders high. "I heard you the first time."

Lydia's gaze fell then, staring at the floor, her painted pink lips puckered in a frown.

Malia turned on her heel and left. She made her way through the halls, dodging a familiar and frustrated scent, until she reached a door that led outside.

Outside, she found Danny and Erica sitting in the grass, leaning against her favorite tree.

She took a seat on the ground and pulled her bag into her lap, digging inside for her lunch.

"Hey," Erica said.

Malia grunted.

"Did something... happen?"

Malia looked up and between them. "Nothing I really wanna talk about. How's your day going?"

Erica shrugged. "All right. I'm been thinking about the werewolf theory though."

"Oh?" Malia's brows hiked as she looked from Erica to Danny. "That's still on the table, huh?"

Danny shrugged. "If you look deep into Beacon Hill's history, there's plenty of lore to support the idea of supernatural... beings."

"Beings?"

"People, creatures, whatever you want to call them."

Malia frowned. "Yeah, but isn't lore basically just... stories?"

"That's all history is, really. We just pick and choose what we want to believe is real. It's easier to write things off as camp stories instead of seriously considering the possibility that we aren't on the top of the food chain."

"So now werewolves eat us?" Malia's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Isn't that semi-cannibalistic? After all, they're half human too, aren't they?"

Danny snorted. "Interesting theory. But I meant the food chain like apex predators."

Erica grinned. "Like if Godzilla was real, she'd be the MVP."

"Okay..." Malia chewed her lip. "So, let's say werewolves are real—"

"Werewolves are real," Danny and Erica said in perfect sync.

Malia rolled her eyes. "Why now? Why does a werewolf show up here, in Beacon Hills, _now?_ What makes that a better theory than... crazy human serial killer?"

Danny shrugged. "What if it's both?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what if the crazy serial killer _is_ a werewolf. What if werewolves were always here but they didn't hurt anybody? Maybe this one's just different. This one _wants_ to hurt people."

Malia shook her head. "Why, though? What's the purpose?"

"Animals kill for food," Erica said. "The 'mountain lion' didn't eat the clerk. Or you or me or Jackson. And Derek, or whoever was in the school, they killed the janitor, but did they eat them?"

"The body wasn't found," Danny pointed out.

"Why are we assuming the two are related?" Malia frowned. "What if one's an animal attack and one's a human attack?"

"What are the odds that me, you, and Jackson are in both places?" Erica looked unconvinced. "There has to be a connection."

But did there? Malia knew that the reason the Alpha had come to the school was because Scott had called it there. So, wasn't it just pure coincidence that they were there? Jackson only stayed because Lydia wanted to be sure Allison was there. Allison and Scott were the real targets, not the rest of them. But then... What about the clerk? Why were they killed? Why go through the trouble of getting inside the video store to kill them when there had to be easier targets elsewhere? And following that train of thought, why kill the bus driver?

"Malia?"

"Hm? What?" She looked up sharply to find Danny and Erica staring at her. "Sorry. I'm being spacey." She picked up half her sandwich and look a large bite out of it. "Anyway, who wants to hear about my math test?"

Danny perked up. "You got your mark back? Already?"

Nodding, she dug into her bag and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper.

Danny took it from her outstretched hand and grinned. "B+. See? Didn't I say you'd pass?"

Malia rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth inching up. "I did all right."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Lydia yelped as she was abruptly dragged into an empty office. Shaking his hand off her arm, she turned a sour look on him. "Scott." She smoothed a hand over the hip of her skirt. "I hope you're not expecting a repeat of last night. It was fun, but…" She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Let's not make a habit of it."

"What?" He let out a strangled noise. " _No_. I just wanted to talk to you."

"Oh?" She crossed her arms. "Good. Then maybe you can explain to me why Allison is giving me the cold shoulder. Just who exactly did you tell?"

Scott winced. "Malia knows. I… I told her. She must've said something to Allison."

"You told Malia?" Lydia stepped forward, staring at him searchingly. "What did you say?"

"Does it matter?" Scott's brow furrowed. "Look, all I wanted to say was that yesterday was a mistake. I was… I wasn't thinking straight. I was upset and I guess I just… reacted. So, I'm sorry. I don't know if you thought—"

"What? That we were going to ride off into the sunset together? _Hardly_." She rolled her eyes. "Like I said, it was fun, but it was never going to be anything more. I just needed Jackson to know that he can be replaced at anytime. There will always be someone ready to prove they're better. So, he either has to be at his best at all times or step aside." She reached out and patted Scott's chest. "You were just a means to an end."

Scott's eyebrow raised. "But what you said, about Malia…"

Taking a deep breath, Lydia let it out on a long-suffering sigh. "This is your problem, Scott. You miss the bigger picture when you're too focused on the small details. You have potential. To be as good or better than Jackson. To have what he has and do a better job of keeping it. But you're too worried about Malia to realize that you could be so much more than you are."

Scott stared at her a beat. "I don't think I'm the one with the problem."

Lydia's head jerked back. "Excuse me?"

"There is no bigger picture without the small details. And honestly, I don't want to be a part of something bigger if the people that were there from the beginning aren't there with me." He shook his head. "Whatever game you and Jackson are playing, leave me out of it. I'm happy where I am." He pushed past her toward the door then. "And Lydia?"

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

"I'm not the guy, but there'll be someone else, someone who makes you feel like those small details are what really matter. Someone you don't have to prove anything to."

Her gaze fell away.

Scott walked out the door, letting it fall closed behind him.

Now that Stiles and Lydia were figured out, all that was left was Malia. He took a deep breath and found it disappointingly bereft of wildflowers. Easier said than done.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Allison glared at her phone screen, where the latest of a dozen unanswered texts from Lydia stared back at her.

"Archnemesis?"

"Huh?" Allison looked up to find Cole fall into step next to her. "Uh, no... At least I don't think so. Just... drama, I guess."

"Ahh." He nodded. "You wanna talk about it?"

She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I don't know if it's my story to tell."

"No? Because it seems like you're taking it pretty personally."

Allison's eyes narrowed and a slow smile broke out across her lips. "Okay. Good point." She tucked her phone in the pocket of her jeans. "I have two friends. Good friends."

" _Best_ friends," he teased.

"Right. And one friend... betrayed the other. And my other friend saw them do it."

He hummed.

"And I... I'm _angry_. I mean, who does that? _Why_ would she do that?"

Cole nodded. "Have you asked her?"

"No! No, I haven't said anything to her." She shook her head. "I don't want to. I just..."

"You want to hurt her."

"No," she denied, "that's not..."

"That's why you're ignoring her. Because you know it'll hurt her feelings."

Allison let out a scoff of a laugh. "Okay, Dr. Phil."

He grinned. "I've done the same thing. Probably not for the same reason, but I know when I'm mad at my dad for something, I shut him out. I wanted him to feel what I was feeling. Maybe that's what you're trying to do. Make her hurt like how she made your friend hurt."

Allison's mouth hung open a moment before eventually, she sighed. "Maybe. I just... It was a really shitty thing to do."

"Shitty enough you don't want to be friends anymore?"

A weight filled Allison's stomach. Before this, she and Lydia were close. Really close. But now… "Enough that I'm really, seriously questioning it."

"So, tell her that."

Allison's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Giving my dad the silent treatment only worked for as long as he called. When he stopped calling, I lost my leverage. Nothing got solved." He shrugged. "So, talk to her, tell her why you're pissed, tell her she either needs to fix it or you'll walk away."

"Then what?"

"Then you find out if she cares as much as you do."

Allison's gaze fell. "What if she doesn't?"

"Then at least you didn't waste your time on someone who doesn't deserve it."

Chewing her lip, she nodded. "Okay. Maybe I will." Her phone buzzed in her pocket. "Just not right now. I'll let her stew one more day. _Then_ I'll take the high road."

Cole smirked. "Whatever works for you."

"It does." She smiled. "If sports and the fabric store don't work out, you might have a future in therapy."

"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow. "How does that make you feel?"

Allison groaned.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Stiles plopped down at his desk and turned around to face her. "Hey, question!"

Malia raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

He rested his arms on her desk and leaned forward curiously. "Can you mask your scent? Or heartbeat? Is a thing you're doing?"

Taking a quick look around to make sure nobody else had overheard, she frowned. "Uh... no. At least, I don't think so. Why?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing. Just... Scott said something, about not being able to find you."

Malia's heart jumped. " _Oh_. Well... If I am, it's not on purpose."

"Are you sure?"

She scowled.

He held his hands up. "I just meant that maybe you're doing it on purpose just not _consciously_."

"You think I'm accidentally hiding my scent? I didn't even know that was a thing I could do. Trust me, if I did, I would've done it ages ago. I don't exactly smell like roses after a good run."

"I think you're nervous about talking to Scott. You know you're gonna have to lay it all out and you're not sure how he's going to react. And I think a part of you is so scared that it's actively trying to help you hide from it." He leaned in abruptly and started sniffing at her.

Malia shoved a hand against his face and pushed him back. "People can see you, you know that, right?" The classroom was filling up, a few people glancing in their direction.

He winced. "Sorry. I just thought..." He shook his head. "Anyway, my point stands."

"Okay, so, say you're right—"

He grinned.

"—I don't know how I'm doing it, so I definitely don't know how to stop it."

"Well, logic says if you're not _scared_ you don't have to hide." He stared at her knowingly. "Take your own advice." He flicked her hair. " _Talk_ to him." Point made, he turned around in his seat.

Malia glared at his back.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Scott! McCall, hey!"

Scott drew a deep breath and let it out on a sigh, twisting the grimace on his mouth into something halfway friendly, he turned on his heel.

Cole jogged down the hall to meet him. "Hey, man, I was hoping we could talk."

"Uh... yeah, sure." Scott's gaze darted around the busy hallway as people readied to head home. "Uh, here, or...?"

Cole motioned toward an adjacent hallway. It was half glass, two panes of which were still covered over from when Malia had helped Danny and Erica escape from the alpha.

Running a hand through his hair awkwardly, Scott pivoted to face Cole. "So, what's up?"

Cole shrugged. "I've been thinking about Saturday and I think I said something that maybe got mixed up..." He shook his head. "I just wanted to clear the air so things aren't weird or anything..."

"Weird?"

"Yeah, well, I said Malia and I are working things out and I think it maybe sounded like I meant as a couple, but... That's not really where we're at. We talked about it and we make more sense as friends. I can't say I'm not disappointed, but she's a pretty good friend to have. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that."

"Oh. Uh, okay." Scott stared at him a beat. "So, you guys aren't...?"

"She let me down easy."

" _Oh_. Yeah, I... I guess I did think you meant you were together or..." He shook his head. "Anyway, I'm sorry it didn't work out."

Cole stared at him a beat, searching his face. "You know, as someone who knows Malia and knows how easy it is to care about her... I get it."

Scott's brow furrowed. He glanced away and then back. "What?"

Cole half-grinned. "I've got practice, so I should head out. But I'm glad we cleared that up."

"Yeah, sure, me too." Scott watched as Cole turned on his heel and walked away. For a moment, he was, well, dumbfounded. But then, as his confusion ebbed, he realized something very important. Cole was no longer a part of the picture. Malia broke things off with him. Which meant Malia was single. And he'd kissed Lydia Martin yesterday…

Lately, it seemed like everything he did was just one step forward and three steps back.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"So, I'm thinking... girls' night," Allison suggested. "Junk food, which I _know_ is your weakness, pizza, M&M's, licorice, whatever you want, and just a _ton_ of movies."

"A nice dream." Malia half-smiled. "But last I checked, it's Tuesday. I don't think your dad would let us stay up 'til 4 am watching chick flicks."

"I was thinking more like comedies." Allison scrunched up her nose. "Screw love."

"All right, I like your pitch, but I'm still stuck on the Tuesday thing. Plus, my dad wants me home for dinner. I think he wants us to spend some time together, just the two of us."

"Oh." Allison frowned. "Okay, I guess I get that."

"What about tomorrow? We might have to limit it to one or two movies, but if we get started right away..."

Allison grinned. "Okay. Raincheck it is. That gives me some time to look up movies too. I'll text you a short list."

"Are you seriously going to vet the movies to make sure there's no romance?"

" _Definitely_."

Malia shrugged. "Okay. I'll bring the junk food."

"Deal." Allison's gaze fell then as her phone buzzed from the pocket of her jeans. "That'll be my dad. He's still being super hovery."

"I get it." Malia paused. "Does he know about last night?"

"No..." She bit her lip. "I thought about telling him, but I feel like if even one more thing goes wrong, he's going to sign me up for some all-girls boarding school in Europe or something."

Malia snorted. "I haven't had a pen pal since third grade, but I'll brush my letter writing skills off if he does."

Allison laughed under her breath. "I appreciate the commitment."

Malia pulled her bag on. "I think I'm going to change and get a run in before I go home. But text me later?"

"Okay. I will." Allison started walking backwards down the hall. "And hey, if you wanna talk later, about Scott or Lydia or... _anything_. Call me. Seriously."

Malia smiled. "I will."

Allison's phone buzzed again and she rolled her eyes. "Okay. I gotta go. Have a good run!"

Malia nodded, waving a hand in goodbye. As Allison turned around, she answered her phone out. Malia listened to her reassure her dad that yes, she was on her way out and no, she wasn't in any danger whatsoever.

Turning in the opposite direction, Malia made her way to the locker room.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Are you all right, Scott?" Deaton wondered. "You seem a little distracted today."

Scott looked up from the supplies he was going through and gave his head a shake. "Yeah, sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind lately."

"Would this have something to do with the attack at the school? That must've been really stressful for you, and for your friends."

"Yeah, it was. But that's not... I mean, it _is_ stressing me out, but that's not all of it."

"Ah." Deaton nodded. "It's been a while, but I remember what it was like when I was your age. It's not easy." His gaze dropped to the chart in his hands. "It's been a while since we've had Shiloh come in for a check-up. I was going to have reception call Malia, see if she could bring her in tomorrow. Since Julie's out, do you think you could let Malia know? It's not our usual protocol, but I figure since you two are so close..."

Scott frowned. "Usually, I'd say yes. But I don't know if Malia's really talking to me right now."

"Oh?" Deaton stared down at him curiously. "Is everything all right? I know she was at the school that night too."

Scott nodded. "Yeah. She's okay. I just... I think I screwed things up and I don't really know what to do."

Deaton hummed. "You know, it's been my experience that if I think I've done something wrong, the best thing to do is talk to the person I feel I've wronged. Sometimes they're the only person who can offer clarification on the situation. And if they deserve an apology, they're right there to hear it."

Scott glanced at him. "What if an apology isn't enough?"

"Well, that's the difficult part, isn't it? All we can really do is our best. We apologize, we try to do better next time, we learn, and we grow." He smiled lightly. "But listen, I know you. And I think I know Malia pretty well too. I don't think there's anything you could've done, at least not intentionally, that would cause your relationship to deteriorate too much."

Scott sighed. "I just feel like I'm doing everything wrong. That I'm hurting everyone I care about."

"Is what you're doing intentional? Is it something you can change?"

"I don't know... I _think_ I can do better. I just might need some help."

"Well, then, that's a start, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Scott sighed. "So, I just talk to her?"

"Be honest with her."

Scott nodded. "All right. Thanks."

"No problem. Now, how's the cat food supply look? Are we running low?"

Scott shook off his distraction and refocused on work, dropping his attention to a list attached to a nearby clipboard.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Malia slowed to a stop on the track field, her lungs burning and her legs shaking. She tipped her head back, hands on her hips, as she tried to catch her breath. The sun was setting in the distance, a reminder of just how long she'd been running for. The school had long emptied out, while she lingered, trying to get her head on straight. There was only so much avoidance she could get away with, and that was what she was doing. While she hadn't been actively hiding her scent and heartbeat from Scott, not knowingly anyway, she was still able to avoid him by tracking his scent and avoiding hallways he was in. And if they shared a class, she walked in right before it started and stayed focused on her work or the teacher. But it was a Band-Aid and they both knew it.

Walking to the bench, where her bag was tucked out of view, she took a seat. Digging a water bottle out, she guzzled half of it, swiping at her mouth with her arm. She pushed her hair off her flushed face and took a moment to just absorb the quiet. As she did, however, breathing deep through her nose, she caught a scent nearby. Sour and pungent, reeking of suspicion.

Malia went still, her shoulders bunched up tight. She tilted her head in the direction the scent was coming from and let her eyes open.

He wasn't close by any means, but he was there. _Jackson_. She really needed to stop underestimating Jackson's uncanny ability to stick his nose in other people's business. He was involved in this, whether she wanted him to be or not. And he was putting things together. She wasn't sure how long it would take for him to go from 'serial killing Derek' to 'homicidal werewolf' but something needed to be done.

Intimidation wouldn't work, not with someone like Jackson. He was too egotistical for his own good. Which meant it had to be subtle. A distraction. A logical answer to all of the illogical things he'd seen. She'd have to talk to Stiles, find a way to throw Jackson off the scent. But it would have to wait for now. It was getting late and she needed to head home.

Malia dug her phone out of her bag and stood from the bench. She had a missed call from her dad, so she called him back as she started across the field.

"Hello?"

"Dad, hey... Sorry I missed your call. I was running."

"Oh. Out here on the trails?"

"No, at the school. It's a little late to shower, I think they've probably locked up by now, so I'll just catch the bus out that way."

"Why don't I pick you up? I need a few more things for dinner anyway."

She paused, brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"

"I'm already walking out the door. I'll see you soon."

A smile pulled at her mouth. "All right. Bye."

Hanging up, Malia made her way to the parking lot. She found a bench to sit on and let her bag flop down beside her. Jackson's scent was fainter now, distant enough to tell her he'd left. She felt a heavy weight in her stomach, warning her that Jackson was a threat she couldn't put off for long. A beep from her phone let her know she had unread texts, so she quickly busied herself with that instead.

A few were from Allison with movie suggestions. A couple more were from Stiles, just checking in and letting her know how much homework sucked.

But the last two were from Scott.

—' _can we talk?'_

—' _please?'_

Malia let out a long, heavy sigh. Her thumb hovered over the screen. Chewing her lip, she gathered her courage and texted back— ' _it'll have to be later. i'm having dinner with my dad_.'

He was quick to reply —' _yeah! sure! that's fine. later works!_ '

She shifted in her seat, anxiety welling in her stomach. —' _okay. your place?_ '

—' _sounds good. i'll text you when I'm off work_.' He added a smiley emoji.

Despite her worry, Malia felt a tiny ball of warmth unfurl in her chest. Things were weird and awkward, but maybe they wouldn't have to stay that way. —' _ok_ '

Putting her phone away, she sat back against the bench, and waited on her dad to arrive.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Dinner was going well. Apparently, her dad was in a nostalgic mood, because he was telling a lot of stories from when he was in high school. But it was nice. He was a good story teller, and he got up to a lot of truly _dumb_ things, which meant she spent much of the meal laughing at his expense. It also gave her something to focus on other than her expected meet up with Scott. But as the laughter died away and the food was finished, she traded the table for the sink to wash dishes.

"You feeling all right?"

"Hm?" Malia looked up as her dad hovered next to her, drying plates and putting them away.

Henry frowned. "You just seem like you're upset about something."

"Oh." She paused. "No, just... I'm just thinking."

"Yeah? Anything I can help with?"

Malia half-smiled. "I don't think so."

"No? That means it's about a boy." He knocked his elbow against her arm. "You don't think I can give dating advice? I was a stud back in high school!"

"The fact that you just used the word ' _stud_ ' isn't exactly encouraging."

"What? They don't use that kind of _lingo_ anymore?"

Malia groaned. "Dad, stop!"

He chuckled to himself. "All right, fine."

"Thank you."

He dried a bowl and stacked it with a few others. "This wouldn't happen to be about Scott is it?"

Malia's head fell back with a loud sigh.

"I thought I saw something, a spark maybe, when he came over for breakfast."

She shook her head. "I can't hear you. I've gone temporarily deaf." She brandished a few pieces of wet, soapy cutlery. "And if it wears off, I might stab myself in the ear with this fork."

Henry rolled his eyes. "That's a little dramatic."

Malia put all of her focus on the dishes, scrubbing with a little more elbow grease than strictly necessary.

"Are you two dating?"

She frowned. " _No_."

He hummed. "Do you want to?"

She turned to glare at him.

But Henry only smiled. "Hey, I missed out on a lot of this stuff. I'm trying to make up for it now. Humor me a little. You got a thing for Scott?"

"I..." She folded up her mouth, all too truthful words crowding atop her tongue. "Yes. I do. I... I like him and he doesn't like me, not like that."

Henry stared at her a beat. "Are you sure about that?"

Malia stared at him, unimpressed. "Dad..."

He held his hands up, one still clutching a dish towel. "I'm not trying to get your hopes up or something. I'm just going off what I saw. What I've _seen_. I wasn't around much, I know that. But when I was, I always knew you were safe with Scott. Not just because I know Melissa, but because of who Scott is. And he only proved that the other day. You know, the one thing I can be grateful for is that you found good people to help you through what happened. I regret it wasn't me. I really do. But you found Scott and the Stilinski boy and the three of you have been thick as thieves ever since." He sighed, letting his hands drop to his sides. "I'm not gonna speak for someone else. Whatever it is between you and Scott, you two need to figure that out. I just know that he's a good kid and that he cares about you."

"I know."

Henry reached out and brushed her hair off her cheek, tucking it away from her eyes. "You know, your mom was about your age the first time she fell in love."

Her eyes bounced up to meet his. "Really?"

"Yeah. Guy named Gus."

Malia's nose scrunched up. "Gus? _Seriously?"_

He laughed lightly. "Gus Matthews. The way she told it, he was about a year older, had a motorcycle, leather jacket, stereotypical bad boy..."

"And she was into that?"

He shrugged. "She saw something in him, I guess. Fell in love and thought she'd marry him."

Malia leaned her hip against the sink. "What happened?"

"The usual. They fought, broke up, worked it out. Went that way for a couple years, and then he graduated. Asked her to quit school and join him on the road. She decided to stay, finish school, figured they'd find each other after if they were meant to."

"But they didn't."

"No. She went on her own adventure, and eventually, she found me instead."

Malia bit her lip as she smiled. "Gus, huh?"

He nodded. "Bad boy Gus."

" _Huh_."

"That's how it goes. Things seem so much bigger when you're younger. Life or death. But people come and go. You date, fall in love, break up, fall out of love, date again."

Her nose scrunched up. "Sounds a little cynical when you put it that way."

"Eventually, you find the right person. Could be when you're sixteen, could be when you're 20, fresh from living out of a bus in a commune, studying sustainable agriculture."

Malia grinned. "Did she wow you with her pesticide-free egg plants?"

He snorted a laugh. "She did." He nodded. "You're a lot like her."

"Are you kidding? I could kill a cactus just by looking at it."

"You didn't get her green thumb, but you did get her strength."

Malia stared at him a beat. "Not the worst thing I could get, I guess."

"Not by a long shot. She used to have a wicked potty mouth. I'm glad you didn't get that."

Malia laughed. "I've got time."

He raised a hand to wag a finger at her, but a sharp knock at the door caught their attention. "You expecting someone?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

"Huh." He walked to the door, tossing the dish towel over his shoulder and reached for the door handle.

Malia angled herself to the side to better see who was on the other side. Her stomach dropped as she spotted Sheriff Stilinski.

"Henry," the Sheriff greeted. "Sorry to drop in on you guys like this."

"That's fine. What can I do for you, Sheriff?"

He looked past him to Malia. "Was hoping I might talk to Malia about the attack at the school. Afraid she's the only statement I haven't gotten yet."

Henry turned to look at Malia.

She could see in his face that he would make an excuse and send the Sheriff away if she wanted him to. She felt a burst of gratitude hit her. He wasn't perfect, but he was trying. "It's okay. I should get it over with." Wiping her hands dry, she made her way to the table.

Sheriff Stilinski made his way in the house, removing his hat as he went. He took a seat at the table and smiled at Malia lightly. "Was hoping I might see you at the station earlier."

"Yeah, sorry. I meant to, but I totally forgot."

"It's all right. I've got time now." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a tape recorder and a notepad. "Can you tell me what happened that night, Malia? Everything you can remember. Every detail matters."

Malia nodded. "Yeah. I can do that."

"All right." He fiddled with the recorder. "Can I get your full name and birth date?"

"Malia Natalia Tate. November 28, 1994."

"Okay, Malia, can you start with what you were doing at the school on the night of February 2, 2011?"

"Yeah, uh..." She shifted in her seat. "I was in the library, studying for a math test..."

Telling the whole story felt like it took forever. He interrupted frequently to clarify names and details. He paused when she reached the point where she got Danny and Erica out, but chose to stay. He didn't ask why, didn't tell her that it was dangerous and she should've left and gone for help. Not because he didn't care, not even because she was staying behind for his son. Instead, she thought she saw understanding in his gaze. Exasperated understanding. He'd known her a long time, had seen her friendship with Stiles grow over the years. The one thing they all were was loyal to each other. Not even a homicidal serial killer was going to hinder that.

By the end of it, she felt exhausted. Reliving the ordeal wasn't exactly nice and the more she talked about it, the less 'over' it felt. Like it was shadowing her wherever she went. That one terrifying night where her whole life had turned upside down. There were other nights, other days when life seemed right on the edge of being too much. Just last night she'd suffered something similar. But she wasn't sure anything would compare to seeing Scott being shredded apart while her body betrayed her and she became something else... Something she had no real control over.

She didn't tell Sheriff Stilinski that, however. In his and her dad's mind, her part of the story ended shortly after slipping in the librarian's blood and retreating to the locker room to wash it off.

With a sigh, he rubbed a hand over his brow and stared at her. "Did you see anyone when you were there? This... _guy_ that was chasing everyone. You never got a look at him?"

There was a pause before she answered, one that felt like it stretched on forever. She wanted to lie, say she caught a glimpse of him, if only to say it wasn't Derek. But it didn't fit with the events as she'd shared them. So, she told him, "No."

"Okay." He nodded and closed his notebook. "Is that everything you have to share?"

"Yes."

With that, he turned off the recorder. "Thanks for this. I know it isn't fun, but with everything that happened..."

"Have they found the librarian?" Henry wondered, seated directly across from Malia.

"No, not yet." With a shake of his head, Sheriff Stilinski rose from his chair. "It's a complicated case. Confusing more than anything. But I guess that's becoming something of the norm lately."

"You mean the animal attacks?" Henry frowned. "I've lived in the preserve a while now, we don't have much trouble with anything out here. Hard to believe they'd start making their way into town to attack anyone. Can't see why they would. They have plenty of food where they are."

"Yeah. We've been thinking the same."

"Could be rabies though, couldn't it?" Malia suggested.

"Could be." Sheriff Stilinski plucked his hat up from the table. "Sorry I took up so much of your evening. I better get back out there."

"Sure." Henry walked him to the door. "The way I'm reading it in the newspaper, you already have an idea of who it is that was at the school. Guy named Derek Hale." Henry glanced back at her briefly before lowering his voice as he spoke to the Sheriff. "He was part of the Hale family, wasn't he? That died in the fire."

"He was, yeah. Right now, he's a suspect, one we really wanna talk to. So just... keep your eyes open, all right?"

"Yeah, of course. Thank you, Sheriff."

They shook hands as the Sheriff left, and then Henry was closing the door, hand still gripped around the handle. After a beat, he turned to look at her. "Think I might go to a meeting. You think you'll be all right here on your own?"

Malia nodded. "Yeah. Definitely."

Grabbing his jacket off the hook by the door, he pulled it on while still eyeing her uncertainly. "Lock the door behind me, all right? With all these weird things happening lately, I don't want to take any chances."

"Sure. I will."

"Okay." He half-smiled. "If you're still up when I get back, maybe we can talk some more about your mom. She had a few wild stories of her own I can tell you."

Malia grinned. "I'd like that."

"All right. I should be a couple hours. The group likes to get coffee and talk after."

"I've got some homework to do, it's fine."

Nodding, he pulled the door open to leave.

Malia listened to his footsteps as he made his way to the truck before she returned to the sink. She finished off the last of the dishes and checked to see if the food was cooled down enough to be put away. While she was lingering at the open fridge door, trying to figure out what she wanted to bring for lunch the next day, light suddenly shone through the front window of her house.

Frowning, Malia turned around. She knew the sound of her dad's truck well enough to know it wasn't him. As she stepped out onto the porch, she stared, slightly confused at finding Stiles' jeep idling in her front yard.

It was Scott that hopped out to meet her, crossing to the bottom of the porch. "Hey..."

"Hi." She rocked back on her heels, nerves suddenly chewing at her stomach. "I thought we were meeting at your place."

"We were." His eyes widened. "Are! I just... Uh... Derek called."

"Oh. Okay...?"

"He says he's got a lead on something, it might help with finding out who the alpha is, he didn't really go into detail." He shook his head. "I think he tried to call you but it rang through. Same thing when Stiles tried."

"I shut my phone off at dinner. My dad wanted to bond or something..."

"Good. That's really good." He smiled, but it quickly dimmed. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"No, he left for a meeting." She hugged her arms around herself. "So, Derek has a plan?"

"Right, yeah. He, uh, he was thinking we might be able to help."

"Okay. How?"

Scott half-smiled. "He was hoping we could drive the getaway car."

She snorted. The tension of before quickly started to ebb. Maybe this was okay. They could just put 'them' on the back burner and focus on this. "I'm not even kind of surprised, but I don't think that takes three of us."

Scott shrugged. "No, but I didn't think you'd want to be left out the first time me and Stiles get arrested."

Biting back a smile, she shook her head. "You'd be right." Stepping back inside, she pulled on a pair of boots and a jacket. Pulling the door closed behind her, she crossed the porch. "So, we're driving the getaway car from _who_ exactly?"

"The cops, the Argents, whoever spots us first."

Humming, she hopped down the stairs and walked with him back to the jeep. "And Derek will be where?"

"Interrogating someone somewhere... All he said was that if his car is spotted on one side of town and he's in another, hopefully they'll follow the car and he can do what he needs to." He opened the jeep door and pulled the passenger seat forward for her to access the backseat.

Malia hitched herself up and ducked her head through. Taking a seat in the middle, she rested her elbows on her knees and leaned through the front seats as Scott climbed in after and yanked the door shut with a whining creak. "So, who's driving the Camaro?"

"I've officially been banned from driving it." Stiles rolled his eyes. "He says it has to be one of you two because you have the ' _reflexes not to screw it up._ ' What the hell ever, I'm a great driver!" He pulled out of her driveway so abruptly Malia was briefly thrown back against the seat.

Scott turned to grin at her. "We can take turns."

"I'm not sure anybody chasing us is going to let us pull over to switch."

He shrugged. "Maybe we won't get spotted."

"All right. Flip a coin to see who drives first?"

"Sure." He dug his wallet out of his jeans and pulled out a quarter. "Heads or tails?"

She smirked. "Tails."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Derek had them meet in a shadowy parking lot where most of the street lamps were either out or ominously blinking.

"Sometimes I think he does things like this just for the drama," Malia muttered

Stiles snorted. "I would pay real money to hear you say that to him." He pulled the jeep to a stop just in front of the Camaro, where Derek was leaning against the front, hands tucked in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Malia waited as Scott and Stiles climbed out before she pushed the seat forward.

Scott held a hand out to help her down. It was sweet, in the way that Scott was always sweet, which made it that much more awkward given the situation lately. Still, she took his hand, even knowing that she hardly needed his help to balance when she had better reflexes than ever before. He held onto her hand a beat longer than necessary, or maybe that was her brain trying to make something out of nothing.

They circled around the jeep to meet Derek, who was frowning at them.

"It's only a day after the full moon, shouldn't you be lying low?" Scott wondered.

"We don't have time for that. And frankly, this would be a lot easier if someone didn't decide to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Okay, I get it, it was a dumbass mistake. But you called us here, so let's just do this."

"Speaking of _this_ , who exactly are you gonna be interrogating?" Stiles' brows hiked. "The last time you interrogated someone, you beat Scott's boss bloody."

"And I'm still not sure he isn't who I'm looking for." Derek shook his head. "Look, the last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out. She found _two_ things. The first was a guy named Harris—"

"Whoa, wait, our _chemistry_ teacher?"

Scott's brow furrowed. "Why him?"

Derek sighed, frustrated. "I don't know yet. Which is why I'm going to see him. He's still at the school. He works late. And when I drove by, his car was still in the parking lot. I'll drop by his classroom, figure out what he knows about Laura."

Malia hummed. "And you think that'll lead you to the Alpha?"

"I think it's a lead. If Laura was looking into him, then he has to be connected to this somehow. Maybe he knows who the Alpha is or maybe he has a way to find out."

"Or maybe he's the Alpha." Malia shrugged. "He's a dick every other day of the month, wouldn't surprise me if he was a super-dick on the full moon."

"It's possible," Derek admitted. "I won't know until I talk to him."

"So, while you're doing that, we're supposed to get the cop's attention somewhere else?" Stiles nodded. "That could work."

"You could also just sneak into the school and not involve the cops at all," Scott muttered.

"The school has extra security hanging around it after what happened," Derek reminded. "And everybody is on the lookout for me."

"Then maybe you shouldn't be the one that talks to Harris."

Derek shook his head. "It has to be me. If you do it, you expose yourself. If Harris knows anything about Laura or werewolves or the Alpha, then he'll put together that you know too. For all we know, he's a hunter."

"Harris?" Malia snorted. "I know I just said he might be the Alpha, but I was mostly giving credit to the idea that the moon was giving him superhuman strength and speed and bloodlust. If he's human, then he's not exactly hunter material."

"Blending in is what they do. If you didn't know the Argents were hunters, you'd think they were a completely normal family."

"I don't know, personality wise, most of them are pretty intense." Malia frowned. "I like to think Allison is an outlier."

Derek gritted his teeth, impatient, and bit out, "Look, the point is, it's too risky to send any of you in to talk to Harris. It has to be me."

Stiles shrugged his shoulders high. "All right, but I still think we could pull it off with a couple balaclavas and voice distorters."

Derek stared at him. "Did you bring your voice distorter to this meeting?"

"Well, _no_..."

"Then shut up."

Stiles scowled.

Sighing, Scott stepped forward. "Okay. So, you head to the school and we'll take the Camaro. Is there a meet up place, or do we just come back here after?"

"I'll call you when I'm done. Just keep driving around and don't let them see you." Derek tossed the keys to Malia. "Remember, if they catch you, they're going to want to know what you're doing in my car. They think I murdered at least two people and you're the only witnesses, so they'll have a lot of questions."

Stiles raised a finger, grinned, and rocked back on his heels. "We found it and we were joyriding."

Malia shook her head. "Yeah, I don't know how much your dad will believe that."

"Maybe not, but he can't prove otherwise." Stiles rubbed his hands together. "All right, let's go."

While Scott and Stiles circled the car, standing on either side, Malia waited as Derek made his way over to her. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

He glanced back at Scott and Stiles and then turned to her. "Honestly? No. But I need to do this. Laura thought Harris was worth talking to. And if he can help us figure out who the Alpha is and why they're doing this..."

Malia fiddled with the keys between her fingers. "Just be careful."

"I will." He nodded. "You too, all right?"

She half-smiled. "I'm not wanted for murder."

"Depending on who catches up to you, they might just shoot on sight." He stared at her searchingly. "I know you don't think Allison is one of them—"

"She's not." Malia stared at him firmly. "Whatever her parents are, she isn't like them."

They stood there a moment, a tense silence strung between them.

Finally, he said, "I hope you're right."

It was about as close as she was going to get to approval, she guessed.

Shaking her head, she said, "Hey, you never told us what the other thing Laura found was."

"Oh, right." He dug a piece of paper out of his pocket and held it out to her. "It's some kind of symbol. I'm still trying to track it down."

Malia stared at the paper, a headache already forming at her temple. Glancing at him, she said, "Take a picture, text it to me."

He nodded.

Making her way to the driver's side, she pulled the door open. "If something goes wrong and you need help—"

"I'll get myself out of it." He stared at her seriously. "Don't play hero. Keep them away from me as long as you can, but don't get in the middle if you don't have to."

Malia pursed her lips. "I'm already in the middle." Climbing inside, she yanked the door shut and turned the ignition. When the headlights flooded the area, she could tell Derek was already gone.

"He tell you anything important?" Stiles wondered from the backseat.

Pulling the car out and toward the main road, she nodded, short and sharp. "The other thing Laura found, it was a symbol, and I've seen it before." She glanced at Scott. "So have you."

His brow furrowed. "I have?"

"Yeah. It's the same symbol on Allison's necklace."

Stiles' brows hiked. "What does that mean?"

Malia pressed her foot down on the accelerator. "It means we need to get that necklace."

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _ughhhhhh, i'm sorry for how long this chapter took, and the fact that so much is more transitional than anything. i had a few thousand words written and then i just got busy with work and i was tired and when i did have time, i was distracted with a couple other projects. but, in any case, i'm back. i already have about 3k of the next chapter written and it's coming along nicely._

 _i purposely kept malia and scott separate for this as i wanted them each to reflect on how different things feel when they're not on the same wavelength. they've been avoiding their feelings for too long and it's time to talk it out and clear things up. which is why we see scott talk to lydia this chapter and make it clear that's not what he wants. why cole comes up to scott and makes sure he knows that cole is not an obstacle anymore. and then we've got henry and deaton both telling scott and malia that they clearly care about each other and should talk things through. so, despite the current distraction of derek's plan, i do have these crazy kids talking next chapter... and i think you'll be pleasantly surprised ;)_

 **coming up next** : _a car chase, FEEEEELINGS, mallison friendship, jackson proves he is not as stupid as he is douchey, and MIGUEL._

 _thanks so much for reading, please try to leave a review! i will do my best to get the next chapter up much, much quicker!_  
 **\- Lee | Fina**


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